


Definition of Normal

by JaneScarlett



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Humour, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:26:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneScarlett/pseuds/JaneScarlett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think,” the Doctor said, “that we should do something normal.”  But what IS normal between the Doctor and River Song, anyway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which the Doctor has a Great Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Much love and endless thanks to Sarah Blackwood for the beta, the encouragement, and for allowing me to drag her into my Doctor-obsession in the first place.

It had been quiet for exactly 7.2 seconds inside the TARDIS. Long enough for River to draw a deep breath after their frantic rush away from invading Huns, and certainly long enough to entertain the possibility of adjourning to the kitchen for a cup of tea; when suddenly the Doctor stood up a little straighter. Looked over the console at her with a bright, innocent smile; and she closed her eyes briefly, feeling her hearts speed up and begin thundering in her ears again in anticipation.

“I,” he exclaimed portentously, clasping his hands together, “have had an idea!”

River raised an eyebrow, fighting down a smile. _Of course you have_. She managed, just barely to keep the words inside her head. Hardly surprising, really. Her Doctor always had an idea, a notion, a plan… And honestly, it wasn’t that she minded the inevitable adventure that resulted from said schemes. (In fact, she _loved_ adventures and running and madness; and especially when he was at her side.)

But there was something to the gleam in his eyes that warned her as clearly as a 21st century neon sign: whatever he was thinking about now that put that gleeful smile on his face and the bounce in his step, was _not_ going to be the their usual sort escapade. And that, she mused, was slightly terrifying, in and of itself.

“Just the one?” she finally asked mildly, as she pushed the accelerator into place and tried to focus on the monitor. “That seems unlike you.”

“No,” the Doctor scoffed. “Of course not! I never just have one. How boring would it be if you only had one idea at a time?

“But this? It’s good. Really good. I think…” he paused for maximum effect, and now she did permit herself a fond smile as she glanced over at him. The Doctor was so excited, he fairly radiated anticipation. Eyes bright, hair flopping across his forehead, fingers twitching slightly. Even his bowtie seemed to quiver.

“I think,” he repeated, “that we should do something normal.” Silence followed his words and River’s brow furrowed in confusion.

She liked to think that she knew him fairly well by now, being just past the first hundred days into her prison sentence. One hundred and forty-two, to be exact; one hundred and forty-two nights of running hand in hand, roaming the Universe. For anyone else, that amount of time might seem like forever… but tonight she was reminded that as far as things went between her and the Doctor, one hundred and forty-two nights was nothing.

He was often so old when he showed up at Stormcage. Informed and almost suave; though rather easily flustered. (And she had to admit she liked that; no matter how old he was, he always melted into stammering mush for just a moment whenever she kissed him. That sort of reaction did tend to make a girl feel special.)

Her Doctor, for the most part, was a man who knew her far better than she even knew herself; and she did adore that. But tonight… from almost the very first moment, he seemed so different. So _nervous_. The fumbling as he unlocked her cell, the slightly giddy way he tossed her an overnight bag and told her to pack; he’d not be bringing her back for a few days. And then the self-conscious giggle when -shivering in Mongolia, right before they ended up running for their lives from the Huns- she’d finally been able to get him to stand still long enough to check diaries.

“Oh,“ he’d said, fiddling for a moment at his neck. “I know who you are, River.” Her eyes narrowed at the bowtie he was wearing tonight -dark grey, patterned and utterly familiar- and she smiled.

“I see,“ she drawled, reaching out a finger to stroke the crisp silk. “So… how do you feel about pyramids, sweetie?”

“Pyramids?” He nodded, not meeting her eyes. “Ah. Umm. Love a pyramid…”

“Me too.” She couldn’t help her smile; and he grinned back, exuberant and nervous.

Which told her that even if he was acting a bit strange, at least he did know her. She wasn’t sure how much past Area 52 he was; but as the night wore on, she became more certain that this was very, very early in their relative time streams… which meant that he was rather young indeed. The youngest she had probably ever seen him, to date.

Which also meant that of all the things in the world she had come to expect from him (crashing a royal wedding on Mahon, swimming with the four-headed goldfish on Ferrence, searching the mountain ranges of Raysteres for a rare pack of beautiful, jewel toned -but vicious- goats), this current idea was probably the most unexpected. And the strangest.

“Normal?” she asked finally when the silence had gone on for too long. “Really?”

“Yes, normal!” He beamed at her, clearly mistaking her confusion for something more enthusiastic. “It’s a great idea, right?”

“It’s certainly an interesting one,” she said, rather guardedly. “But… what is normal? For us.”

By the look on his face, she could tell that she’d scored a point; and by the expression in his eyes, she could tell that he would never, ever concede it. She sighed, inwardly.

“Normal can be anything,” the Doctor said, rather flippantly. He glanced at her, a careful sidelong glance to judge her reactions. “But I was thinking of… a movie?”

River stared at him.

“Dinner in Paris?”

Rounded green eyes blinked rapidly at him from across the console. It was rare to see River Song with no words; but there she was, doing her best imitation of a goldfish. 

“Tea and scones, then. I know a very nice little tea shop…”

“So do I,” she murmured, finding her words again. “It’s called ‘The Kitchen of the TARDIS’.”

“Drinks! We could have a drink at a pub!” The Doctor grinned, delighted to have hit upon a solution he was sure she wouldn‘t refuse.

“A nice drink at a pub! Lager and scotch and rum…though,” he added reflectively, “maybe not altogether. Or some of those shots that come in florescent colours!”

“We can do that here, too,” River said flatly, crossing her arms and giving her husband a narrow-eyed stare. “I’ve been told that you never did jettison that pub behind the lacrosse field.”

The Doctor pouted, visibly deflating. “Why are you being so difficult?” he asked in a sulky voice, scuffing his toe across the floor. “I just wanted us to do something normal. We always do danger, and adventures and running.“ He looked up as River crossed her arms a little tighter, and caught the look on her face. Oh, he knew that look. That little crease between her eyes indicated an oncoming flare of anger...

“Which is great!” he burst out, trying to ease her to a better state of mind. He hadn‘t suggested this to make her _angry_. “I love that; the running and the adventure… and it’s always better when I’m with _you_. But I wanted something we could do together. Like a normal couple on a… date.” His face screwed up as he pronounced the last word, as though it didn’t come naturally to his lips.

River’s face relaxed, but her eyes were still unreadable. Taking a deep breath, she tucked her hair behind her ears.

“Sweetie, you don’t do normal.”

“I can,” the Doctor insisted, rather quickly. Too quickly, River thought. Her eyes narrowed, taking him in.

“Maybe _I_ can’t do normal. Do I seem that type to you?”

“ _You_ are River Song,” he said, waving his arms around and beaming at her. “You could do anything! And normal is what we make of it.”

She stared at him, mind racing as she tried to figure out what he was thinking. Because she just knew… he was up to something. This was simply too odd a request. The Doctor was clever, oh, he was very clever, but she knew him. Most of the time. There was something going on, some path his mind was going down, but she couldn‘t see it. Not yet, anyway.

“These are early days for me,” she said, trying to be tactful. “And I think, for you too. But I’ve still learned this about you so far. You don’t do normal, sweetie. You do… amazing.”

“I’ll have you know,“ the Doctor said, looking unbearably smug (and yet oddly hopeful), “that normal can be amazing too, River Song.”

Their eyes met over the console. _He is definitely up to something_ , she thought. She was sure of it. But in the end she nodded, silently agreeing to humour him.

“A normal date it is, then.” She held out her hand, and was almost surprised by the intensity with which he squeezed it, before pulling her in for a hug.


	2. In Which the Doctor and River Come Up With a Plan

There were papers fluttering all over the control room, lists and coordinates scribbled on pages upon pages of multicoloured paper. The Doctor skipped and skidded from one to the next, reading out ideas with each new sheet he came to, occasionally adding commentary.

“Gardening? We can grow vegetables.”

River wrinkled her nose. She had a sudden image of the Doctor, bowtie slightly askew and hair poking out from beneath a floppy straw hat, wrist deep in dirt. She shuddered slightly.

“I think we’ll pass. Skydiving?”

He snorted. “Skydiving! I can fly anywhere through time and space that I choose.”

“Not everyone can, sweetie.”

“Says the archaeologist with the vortex manipulator.”

“Speaking of which…”

“Absolutely not, no archaeology.”

“It might be fun! You never give it a chance. We can go on a dig together.”

It was the Doctor’s turn to shudder, now. He glanced at another paper, quickly scanning for an appropriately distracting activity.

“Rabbit breeding?”

“I think they usually manage that without our help.” They looked up at each other, and River was positive they were both having the same mental image: the TARDIS filled with fluffy rabbits on each surface and poking out of every room; twitching pink noses and white cottontails as far as the eye could see.

“And what would we do with them, anyway?” she asked. “Sell them to magicians when we get overrun?”

“Only the ones who own their own top hats.”

The Doctor grinned and River began laughing too, turning pages and scanning her quickly jotted down notes. They had been at this for hours now, debating ideas back and forth. _Her_ ideas were large, grandiose thoughts, that -admittedly- had something of an element of danger. (He’d already firmly vetoed car racing, deep sea scuba diving, and glacier surfing; and ignored her groans of protest.)

In exchange, his suggestions elicited one of two responses from her: yawns of boredom, or shocked incredibility. Rabbit breeding? She shook her head, mentally wondering -and not for the first time- about her husband’s grasp on sanity.

“Tell me again,” she asked, fixing him with a curious look. “Why exactly you’ve had this grand plan?”

He shrugged, rather nonchalantly and not facing her. “Thought it’d be fun, River. Something special for both of us.”

“Rabbit breeding?”

“It’s special, isn’t it? Very different.”

“Sweetie… there’s different, and then there’s animal husbandry.”

He giggled at her statement but didn’t answer… and that threw up all sorts of warning bells and whistles.

One hundred and forty-two nights she‘d had with her Doctor so far… one hundred and forty-two nights of adventures and running, his clever word-patter to alleviate the trouble they inevitably found themselves in and her waving a gun when it didn’t work. All of which meant that she _knew_ him by now. Knew him and cared about him and -though this had taken longer than anything else- trusted him. There was always a method to his madness, a reason for why he did the things he did…

And so she knew enough to know there was a slight depression hidden beneath his humour, a frown beneath the giggles and light-heartedness of his suggestions. She knew it was there, but not what was prompting it… and until she did, well, it wouldn’t hurt her to go along with it. At least for a little while.

Her finger traced down the page, and stopped at the bottom.

“What about skiing?” she asked then.

The Doctor spun around, mid-hop over a pile of papers and nearly crashed. When he regained his footing, he laughed, bright and exuberant. “I like it. Skiing! I know the perfect place; the Leysin resort in Switzerland.” He was already at the controls, fingers flying as he hastily typed in coordinates and set them in flight.

“1988, perfect time. It had been warm all winter, and then all of a sudden in February - whoosh!” He turned to her, fingers splayed and eyes alight. “Huge snowstorm! River Song, you will love this.”

She breathed out a sigh of relief, as he turned back to the controls. Relief at the thought of no more lists or the irritation that came when searching for a mutually acceptable normal activity; and relief at the thought that perhaps, she could ignore just a little longer why he’d come up with such a crazy idea in the first place.

Skiing. She could handle skiing.


	3. In Which One Can Discover the Joy of Skiing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Sarah Blackwood… who is an absolute star for teaching me to ski for across an ocean…

Yes, she could certainly handle skiing. Zip yourself into a puffy romper suit? Check. Strap on uncomfortably stiff boots that make you stagger like Frankenstein’s monster? Check. Connect heavy blades of wood -longer than you are tall- to said uncomfortably stiff boots, which then means you can’t walk from place to place, but now need to glide, wraithlike, to manage moving from point A to B?

Yes, of course River Song could handle skiing. Conceivably, anyway. In light of the Doctor’s normal date plan, it had seemed like such a good idea. Non-threatening, but still something of a thrill. She knew the Doctor, after all. He might currently be bandying around such nonsense as wanting them to spend hours painting ceramics or playing with turtles, but… she _knew_ him. The Doctor was no happier with the mundane than she was.

So, skiing. Something she’d always wanted to try, and never been able to. There weren’t a lot of snowy mountains in Florida, after all. Nor in New York City, or Leadworth. Oh, she’d seen movies, certainly. People whizzing down mountains, grace and strength in each twist around a tree, or skimming over the snow in an effortless glide. It seemed like it would be so _fun_.

Fun was not the word for what she was having now.

“River,” the Doctor said, peering down at her, “what are you doing down there?”

Lying flat on her back, River put up a hand to shade her eyes, and squinted at him.

“Contemplating the Universe.”

“That’s my job,” he said, with a grin as he offered her a hand to pull her back up. She accepted, and found herself swaying on her feet.

“Out of curiosity,” he asked, giving her a sidelong look, “which Universe?”

“One far from here,” River muttered under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing.” She tugged her hat down harder over her ears, wishing with all her might that of all the hats the Doctor owned, that he had been able to find one single ski cap that would fit her properly. With each minute that passed, she could feel her hair pushing it up until it perched, bell-like on top her head, and she yanked it down again in frustration.

“Shall we?”

Walking, she’d quickly discovered within moments of strapping on the skis, was nearly impossible; and really, after toddlerhood, one simply should not need to relearn walking. Particularly a type of walking which didn’t involve picking up your feet. After her third tumble, River lay crossly in the snow, waiting for the Doctor to realise she wasn’t following him (again) and to come back to help her up. (Again.)

“Doctor Song,” he said, looming above her, “this isn’t naptime! Why are you down there again?”

She made an inarticulate grunt, but he really didn’t need her response as he yanked her back up to her feet, talking all the while. “Did I ever tell you about when I went skiing with Norheim? Good old Sondre, kept falling off his skis when those leather laces gave out. I was the one who told him that he needed something stronger to hold him in place and suggested the birch roots….”

He was steering them toward the chair lift when she finally tuned back into what he was saying.

“I was thinking the first run could be a nice easy one, and then we’ll go on to something harder?

River had a nasty feeling that his idea of easy would be extremely different from hers. The seat hit the back of her legs and she sat automatically, the Doctor beside her whooping in glee like a child.

“Look at that view!” He twisted, pointing out and down, and she nodded, momentarily distracted. The view: against the never-ending blanket of white, pine trees became dark smudges beneath the blue, blue sky; the crystalline air around them simultaneously robbing you of breath and confirming life… Of course, she reflected, the only problem with the view, with rising higher and higher was that, eventually, one would need to make it back down.

“Off we get!” She was off the lift before he was. It was just a small jump down…and jump she did. There was a breathless moment of hovering in the air and then - oof. Her skis impacted with the snow sending a jolt that she swore she could feel from her feet straight up to the ends of her hair.

The Doctor stood before her, wearing a thoughtfully quizzical look as she shuffled over him.

“Did you _jump_?” he asked.

“Oh,” River said, wide eyed and innocent. Her mind raced, taking in clues from the other people clambering off. Clearly, jumping had been a bad idea. Good thing to know for next time. “Must have just slipped off too early.”

“Ready?” The Doctor grinned at her, his smile wide and warm. Her smile felt very shaky in response.

“Ready.” She was pleased to note that, although it might be a bit more high pitched than she was used to, at least her voice didn’t tremble. Honestly, it was amazing how comfortable she was with leaping into open space, insulting alien races, and falling out of windows, but the thought of being attached to wooden planks and racing down a mountain suddenly filled her with an odd dread.

“Geronimo!” the Doctor called as he launched down.

“Aaaaaah!” River screamed, following in his wake. Sheer strength of will kept her legs parallel as she hurtled down the mountain at incredible speeds, her scream unfurling behind her. Above her, the Doctor squinted. _What in the world was she doing?_ he thought, following her down a little more cautiously. _That’s not the best way to ski._

“That was a little fast!” he said, when he finally reached her. River’s cheeks were flaming red, her breath ragged, as she clutched the poles to her chest. “Oh, but I know you, River Song. It’s all about fast and fun with you, isn’t it?” He tweaked a curl, smiling at her.

_Was that fun?_ River thought. It seemed her reputation for leaping into danger was now coming back to damn her. She yanked her hat down again, trying to control the wild trembling in her knees.

“Shall we go up again? Only this time, maybe we can come down a little slower?” He was already steering her back toward the lift before she could say anything, chattering away about Zdarsky, and helping him develop that first slalom race. Deep breaths calmed her, slowed her breathing and heart rate to normal levels.

“Doctor, what are you doing?” She couldn’t help the alarm in her voice as he unclasped the latch that held them in as a seatbelt.

“Releasing the bar.”

“We’ll fall.” She forced herself not to clutch at his hand, willing her body to stay as still as possible.

“We won’t fall. We’d have to undo the bar before we get to the top anyway, so to get out.” He looked at her. Was it his imagination, or did she look… nervous? No, no. She wouldn’t be nervous! Especially not after skiing down like that, before.

“Are you afraid of heights, or something?” he teased gently, surprised when she looked at him. Her pupils were enormous, eating away at the irises.

“No, of course not.” Brave words tossed out, brave and _mostly_ true. Most people aren’t afraid of heights at all. They’re afraid of falling, that moment of release when they realise that there is nothing stopping you from hitting the ground with a large splat… which was just the thing she loved.

The difference was that normally, it was the rush of adrenaline that saw her through, the blood thrumming through her veins urging survival in those primal fight-or-flight urges; but this was something else entirely. This was flinging herself down a mountain for no other reason that to do it; and that was slightly frightening, in and of itself.

The Doctor shifted beside her, his eyes soft and expression gentle as he put an arm across her chest, holding her back.

“Course you’re not afraid,“ he scoffed cheerfully, leaning into her. Her hair tickled his cheek, and he pressed a soft kiss to the hollow below her ear, feeling her pulse race beneath his lips.

“Cause I thought you knew?” he whispered, feeling strangely protective toward a woman who had never seemed to need protecting in the first place.

“I’ll always catch you.”

He grinned with a little wink; and River chuckled slightly in response as he guided her off the lift, his arm still around her shoulders as they shuffled together toward the edge.

“So,” she said, attempting a tone of calm serenity as she peered down the mountain. “Slower, you said?”

“Slower,” the Doctor confirmed. “It’s more fun that way.”

“Fun,” River repeated dully. At this moment, she couldn’t imagine anything less fun than prolonging this experience. Some sixth sense made her look at the Doctor, to find him examining her carefully. His eyes were thoughtful.

“Ah, River,” he said, delicately. “You do know how to go slower when you ski, right? It’s not all flying to the bottom of the mountain in a straight line.”

“Oh?” She managed a tight smile, eyes straying in front of her and still wide with a hint of terror. There was a crease between the Doctor’s eyebrows as his mind raced, putting together clues at a lightning fast speed and reasoning through her abilities.

“Have you done this before?” he suddenly asked, reaching forward to grab her hand. “River, tell me. Do you know how to ski?”

There was a brief moment in which she was certain that she could lie. _Oh, once upon a time I did, but it was so many years ago I’ve forgotten. Remind me, and I’ll be fine_. But in the end she didn’t have to say a word. He gave a little sigh, shaking his head indignantly.

“You should have told me!”

“You didn’t ask,” she managed to say, between gritted teeth.

“ _You_ suggested skiing in the first place.”

“I’d never done it, but you were the one who vetoed all my other ideas for your normal date scheme. I thought this would be easy. And fun!”

“Are we having fun yet?” She raised her eyes to his, and he gulped at what he saw in them. “Err… maybe not.

“Let’s go to the bunny hill.”

It was a long way down that slope that River knows she will choose for years not to remember, out of sheer embarrassment. And it was a long sliding walk from that slope to the bunny hill, where the Doctor insisted she go to learn basics on skiing.

“Much easier to learn here,“ he said cheerfully. “Much shorter space to roll down.”

“We’re the only adults,“ she hissed at him, nearly sliding off the small lift, which was uncomfortable, but nowhere near as frightening as the higher chairlift had been.

“It’s fine!“ The Doctor said. “No one is even looking at us.“ Patently untrue, he thought a moment later, watching the children around them give surprised looks at the Amazons in their midst.

“Listen to me,” he commanded, putting one hand beneath her chin to tip her gaze up to him. “I’m going to teach you to ski, just like the little children learn to. You’ll learn faster than they do, because you’re not a little child, and because you’re River Song and you can do this. And we are _going_ to have a good time.”

She gave a small laugh, the mood lightening. “You’re still set on us being normal, are you, Doctor?”

“Yes,” he said. “We can be normal sometimes. Skiing is normal. And,” he tapped her on the nose, “fun.”


	4. In Which One Investigates the Causes of a Snowstorm

It is particularly mortifying not to be able to something five-year-old children can manage quite easily, was River’s sour thought. It was not that the Doctor was a bad teacher, not at all. Gone was his customary moral superiority, the slightly patronizing air and the ego. He patiently taught her to snowplow, to use the poles and to turn. No, the problem was her. For all that she was usually so good with physical things, with strength and speed and flexibility, skiing eluded her. In particular, the ability to stop.

“No, no, lean forward!”

“I did lean forward!”

“Not so far forward that you fall!”

“I didn’t mean to! Do you think I meant to do this… again?”

This, meant that she was tangled up like a pretzel, after log rolling down the bunny hill. She scowled, noticing all the small children neatly curving around her prone form as they glided past.

“You can’t just lie there,” he said calmly, reaching out to help her up.

“Then can’t we take a break?” She yanked on her hat again. If only it would stay down, maybe her ears wouldn’t be so cold that they felt as though they were ringing.

“But you’re doing well! It’s just that your skis keep crossing and that makes it hard for you to stop…”

She looked up at him, bottom lip trembling, and he paused, mid-sentence. Were those _tears_ in her eyes?

He’d wanted this to be fun. After that hotel and dropping the Ponds off at their new home -not to mention a certain date in the future he wanted to run and avoid for as long as possible- he felt that he _deserved_ some fun. And when he thought of who might be the best company for that… well, it had to be her. No one else, really; and for so many reasons. Because he’d fought so long against it, but River Song had been always on his mind, insinuating herself into his thoughts from the moment they’d first met. Because every adventure, no matter what happened, was always so enjoyable with her around; teasing and mocking and challenging and assisting him at every turn.

And, honestly… because Demon’s Run and Berlin hadn’t really been that long ago, for him. Even more than his fondness for her company, guilt ate away at him. He owed her so much, in her every regeneration. Little Melody Pond, who he’d been unable to save. Mels, brainwashed and violent. And most of all, River Song, who’d died the first time he‘d met her.

He’d always had a feeling after the Library of who she would be to him; and his suspicion was even stronger when he’d finally understood who and what she was. There was a secrecy and power in his name after all, and a good reason why he didn’t share it… but she’d known it; and that alone told him more about their eventual relationship than anything else could.

And he’d promised, he wouldn’t rewrite even one line. But there was still the nagging thought in the back of his mind that he owed her the most amazing things and extraordinary experiences in the world to make up for… well, for everything. Something even better, if that was possible, than just time and space…

So he reached one gloved finger out, tipping her face up toward him. “Once more?” he pleaded. “I promise you’ll get it.”

She grumbled inarticulately, and his hearts sank. He’d wanted her to enjoy this. He‘d wanted to give her something special and different and _fun_.

But frustration was making her cross. And a cross River Song was a bad, bad thing indeed.

“I promise you’ll be able to stop,” he promised recklessly, “and then this will be so much fun you won’t even want to stop.”

She glared at him, lips set in a frown.

“But, alright. If you still don’t want to ski anymore after one more go, then we’ll take a break. Hot chocolate will make you feel better.”

“Brandy will make me better.”

“Hot chocolate does it for me. And marshmallows. Mmm. But you can have brandy if you want. With marshmallows on top?” He was babbling, very aware he was babbling, but at least the frown was gone from her face, and a bit of good humor back in her eyes.

“Brandy with marshmallows?” she asked, as they shuffled back toward the lift.

“Everything is better with marshmallows.”

She smirked, tugging her hat down again and rubbing her ears. Beside her, the Doctor was doing the same thing. _The problem with skiing_ , he thought, _is that your ears get cold_. So cold you can almost hear them shouting at you that they just want to get back indoors, near a roaring fire.

“Alright?” River asked.

“Yes, yes; fine. Ears a bit cold. Nothing to worry about.”

“Me too. Did you really not have any bigger hats? This one won’t stay down.”

He cast an eye over the hat poking up on her head, poofing over her curls. “None that I was willing to allow you near.”

She gave him a look, but chose to say nothing. Really, the ringing in her ears simply would not go away. She touched an earlobe thoughtfully, wishing that she could rub some warmth back into it. But touching her ear with her cold, snowy glove was almost as bad as simply letting the air and the wind do its’ work.

“Funny about this snowstorm,” the Doctor said from behind her on the lift. “It came in so suddenly. It had been so warm before this.”

“I wouldn’t mind it being a bit warmer,” River said, tugging her ears again. She pulled down her hat once more.

“No, you don’t want it too warm when you ski.”

“Becomes waterskiing then, does it?”

“Exactly. Which is nice but…” He broke off as they reached the top of the hill.

“Now, remember. Tips of the skis point in, but don’t let them cross. Lean backwards to go forward, lean front to stop.” Ignoring the fleeting look of fear in her eyes, he patted her shoulder. “Off you go!”

Feeling distinctly pigeon-toed, River pushed off and started down the hill. She could do this. She _could_ do this. She could even…stop. Which she did. And then looked up, the ringing in her ears becoming an unmanageable shriek that was becoming impossible to ignore, and then…

Uh-oh.

The Doctor, skiing down to her yelped in surprise and joy.

“You did it, you did it! River, you did it, you stopped! No falling over or anything! See, I told you could do it.”

“Doctor, just… stop.”

“But I’m so proud of you! You did it! And now we can keep skiing and having fun together because the next time it’ll be easier and--”

“Just _stop_!” River pleaded, her eyes frozen on the trees before them. There was a rustling, a shape moving and twitching and lurking between the trunks, half hidden by the needles.

So he stopped. And he looked where she did, and froze.

“What is that?” Her voice was thin, and she clutched at his arm.

“It can’t be.”

“Doctor, I think I know what it is, and you think you know what it is, so don‘t say that it _can‘t_ be.”

“Ah..” The Doctor tried to crabwalk backwards up the bunny hill, but River’s grip on his arm refused to let him move. “What do you think it is?” he hedged.

“It looks like--”

A roaring broke through the air, so loud that now she knew it was not just her but everyone who could hear it.

“A yeti.”

“Ah, yes, a yeti. Strange that it’s here, they usually only inhabit the Himalayas, and Linnei, one small planet in the Vergis Cascade. Actually,” he paused, “on Linnei, the yetis are revered as snow gods. They travel in a swirl of snow, bringing storms in their…wake.”

A silence fell over them as they both reflected on what he had just said. A silence punctuated by intermittent roars of the yeti, as it crashed through the trees before them.

“What did you say, before?” River asked in a faint voice. “It had been a warm winter, and then…”

He turned to her, eyes wide. “Sudden snowstorm.”

“Like the type which…?”

“Would herald the coming of the yeti.”

“Ah.”

“Yes. River?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Run!”

He freed his arm from her hand, and began skiing down the hill, calling out a general alarm for parents to take their children, for the other skiers to leave the slopes and adjourn to the lodge for hot chocolate and marshmallows and brandy. There was a flurry of activity, as people looked up and saw the thing looming within the trees and hastened to do as he commanded. And River was still frozen on the hill.

“Run!” The Doctor yelled over his shoulder back at her.

“This isn’t running, it’s skiing!” she screamed back.

“Then ski!”

Her mind was looping in circles, taking tally of everything. The only way to describe it -as she later wrote in her journal- would be if one was to take equal parts terror and an odd fear of a massively man-shaped snow creature bellowing in the trees. Add in a large dollop of uncoordination on the slopes, and a dash of River‘s ever-present worry that she would just not be able to stop and would just keep rolling forever until she became a cartoonish ball of snow with skis and her hair sticking out of it...

But there was nothing for it. She couldn’t keep standing there. So she took a deep breath. And then one more for luck.

And then launched herself down the rest of the bunny hill, snowplowing for all she was worth and just praying she’d be able to stop and then manage to _run in skis_ and catch up with the Doctor, wherever he was, and…

“Oof.” Well, she’d stopped alright. A nice, comforting pine had thoughtfully provided a brake, and she threw her arms around the trunk, hugging it to keep standing upright even as her feet tried to keep moving, splayed on either side of the tree.

“A lover of nature, are you now?” The Doctor’s voice, light and amused came from behind her. She slowly let her arms drop from around the tree, turning slowly to try detangling the branches from her hair and yanking down that stupid hat again.

“It seemed like an easier way to stop,” she remarked.

“Seems like a painful way to stop. I told you, just lean forward.”

“Oh… shut up.”

He was standing, framed in the TARDIS doors, and she stumbled over to him. He must have gone to get it, she realized, as he bent to help her out of her skis, and she lurched inside.

“Do you have a plan?” she asked. “There’s a yeti on the loose in Switzerland.”

“Not just any yeti, but an alien yeti from Linnei. I don‘t know how it got here, but must have been some type of Transdimensional Portal. Maybe something due to people at Leysin wishing for snow, and the yeti -as a form of snow god- hearing them and managing to find it‘s way here…” The Doctor rubbed his hands together. She wearily assumed it was both in glee, and to warm his fingers.

“Doctor. Plan?”

“Oh, right.” He gave her an apologetic smile, and tapped her nose with the tip of one ice cold finger. “I’ve gotten the TARDIS to put a force field around him, and we’ll transport him back to Linnei. No harm done to him, he can’t eat any of the people here on Earth, and Leysin will have had a wonderful snow for their skiers, but no more monster.”

River made her way up to the console, typed in the coordinates for Linnei, and released the brakes.

“You can let me fly,” he said, coming up next to her and nudging her with his hip.

She managed not to growl.

They landed in Linnei, deposited the yeti back in his normal cave, and sagged down together, just inside the doors.

“Fun?” The Doctor asked, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

“Normal?” she countered.

“Maybe not so normal. But you did suggest it.”

She had a feeling he’d never let her forget that.

“I was wrong.”

“I can’t believe it!” he crowed. “Doctor River Song, finally admitting she was wrong about something?”

Too tired even to glower, she pinched him. Hard. The Doctor let out a little yelp, and then settled down, pulling her head onto his shoulder. She felt his lips brush over her forehead, and then his whole body convulsed into a chuckle.

“What?”

“Your hat,” he said simply. She caught a reflection of herself in the glass floor. Her hair, wild around her face. Eyes still a bit wider than normal. And that stupid, stupid hat that had been plaguing her all day. No longer even just sitting on top her head, but now completely perched like a tent.

“Aaargh!” she screamed with frustration, ripping the thing off as she reached behind herself, opening the TARDIS doors and pitching it out into the snow. If her gun was more readily accessible, she would have shot it… but no, she’d left the gun by the console.

The Doctor was clutching his stomach, sliding down until he was almost in the fetal position, still laughing.

“It’s been like that,” he said, wheezing, “since you were showing that tree some love.”

She debated pinching him again, and then drew in a deep breath. No. It was alright. She stood up, calm and dignified, sweeping past the still giggling Doctor on the floor, heading off to the stairs.

“River?” He managed to sit up, and she turned back to him. He was wearing a slightly hopeful, yet slightly shifty expression.

“Yes?”

“I was thinking, while we’re still on Linnei… we could go for one more ski?”

She paused. Debated what to say.

“Oh no, my love. I think not. The time for skiing like a normal couple is done. I think, from the moment the alien yeti appeared, that ship had passed. Do you know what it’s time for?” 

He bit his lip. “No?”

“Brandy.”


	5. In Which the Doctor Thinks of a New Plan

After the Skiing Catastrophe (and yes, even in the privacy of his mind, he realized that should be capitalized), he set himself to thinking of what else they could do. Something fun. Couple-ish. Non-threatening. Something that River might actually enjoy, this time.

(Even though he still privately, and firmly, maintained he could have gotten her into skiing if that yeti hadn’t shown up. But that was one of those thoughts that he made the mistake of mumbling aloud once -and only once- before the force of her stare pinned him against the wall, like a butterfly under glass. River had spent the next hour stomping around the TARDIS, muttering darkly under her breath about the chances of snowballs and flying pigs; and he had resolved to be careful of what words came out of his mouth in the future.)

There was no help for it, but to appeal to a higher authority. And who else would know River so well, as to know what to suggest?

“Pond!”

“Doctor?” He could hear her calling over her shoulder. “Rory! Pick up the phone! It’s _him_.”

A click, and Rory’s calm voice came over.

“Hello, Doctor.”

“Rory the Roman!”

“I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

“Nonsense, it’s a great title.”

Rory grumbled a little, but said nothing.

“I need your help, Ponds.”

There was a laugh from Amy, and a chuckle from Rory.

“Does this have something to do with a certain…idea, you had? Featuring our daughter? She called us, you know. Told us all about your little ski trip.” He could hear the smirking in Amy’s voice, and grimaced in reply. Sometimes, it was very clear which parent River favored.

“Yes. She kept vetoing my ideas, and now she refuses even to talk about it anymore. Keeps saying we’re not normal, so why should we do something normal…”

“She’s got a bit of a point,” Rory put in. The Doctor made a face and stuck out his tongue at the phone.

“No, she doesn’t. It’s a _great_ plan.” Silently, he dared them to disagree.

“Did River ever seem like the normal type to you?” Rory questioned thoughtfully. “She was always sort of… I mean, Doctor, she carries a gun and fires at your hats; how normal is that?

“And how far off from Berlin is she, anyway? Because you said it was mixed signals, there. She killed you and then saved you… Is she really that different now?”

Rory’s voice trailed off, and the Doctor could just picture Mr. Pond frowning intently into the phone.

“She’s our River,” he answered curtly. “Already in Stormcage, just like the one we’d met before.” He paused, trying to think of the correct words to get them on his side.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that River can do anything she wants. So can I. And if we want do something normal, then why can’t we? Doesn‘t your daughter-” he used the word deliberately, a slight goad in the right direction “-deserve that?”

A pause, as both the Ponds evidently debated what might be tactful to say, and then there was a sigh from Amy.

“I refuse to side with either of you,” she said finally. “But, Raggedy Man, I’m going on record as saying I think you’re a bit mad for trying something so crazy with River.”

Rory cleared his throat, and the Doctor had a sudden feeling that if Rory was going to side with someone, it would likely be his daughter, and not him. That alone made him speak faster, if only to stop Rory from saying anything at all.

“I was calling,“ the Doctor said, “because I need your help, Ponds. You know River, you know the things she’d like. I need a few… suggestions?”

“Guns,” Amy supplied immediately.

“Danger,” Rory said, at the same time.

“Excitement!”

“Trouble,” Rory added flatly.

“No guns, no danger, no trouble, minimal excitement,” the Doctor said.

There was silence as the Ponds contemplated that. Then Amy finally spoke. “You’re really cramping her style then, Doctor.”

“Come on!” he burst out, a little exasperated. “River isn’t only about guns and danger and trouble! You’re her parents, you know her better than that. What was her favourite thing to do, as Mels?”

There was a long pause. He could hear Amy’s nails clicking against the receiver.

“Get into trouble?” Rory mumbled.

“Oi, you, that’s our daughter.”

“She is,” Rory argued, “but Amy, you do know what she’s like…”

“No, wait! I’ve got something.”

The Doctor waited, almost breathlessly. Amy was bound to have a good idea.

“Bowling.”

For a moment he wasn’t sure he heard right. “Err..”

“Oh, yeah,” Rory said, starting to laugh. “I forgot! She made us go there every Saturday! She loved that.”

He still wasn’t quite sure he’d really heard them correctly. “Bowling?”

“Yes, Doctor,” Amy said, in a slightly patronizing tone. “Bowling.” There was a particular sound in her voice that made it clear: he might be a nine hundred and thirty-two year old time travelling alien in a bowtie, speaking nearly every known language for the majority of the Galaxy, brilliant and clever and a hero to many… and yet sometimes she wondered about his mental state and abilities of retention.

Honestly, it was positively uncanny how much she was like her daughter.

“Alright then. Bowling. We can go bowling.” He stopped abruptly, hunched over the phone receiver. “You’re sure, though. Positive she really likes that?”

“She always did,” Rory said, cheerfully.

“Bowling it is. Thank you, Ponds. No need to mention this to River, this whole conversation. Let her think I came up with it on my own.”

There were synchronized snorts echoing down the phone, and he wrinkled his nose. Really; was there a reason for such hilarity at the thought of him and River bowling?

“I doubt she’ll think that,” Amy said, laughing. “But we won’t tell her. Good luck, Doctor.”

He thanked them, and hung up, doing a quick scan on the monitor for local bowling alleys, before hitting upon the best idea of all.

“River Song!” he bellowed toward the stairs, hearing a thump and a curse, as he had presumably startled her into falling out of bed. (River -unlike her parents, he had been pleased to note- liked bunk beds; the higher the better.)

“Get your coat. We’re off out.”

She appeared in the console room a few moments later, face still a little puffy from sleep, rubbing her eyes.

“Off out; where exactly?” Her speech was still punctuated by yawns.

“It’s a surprise,” he said, wiggling his fingers at her. “A good surprise.”

Those words seemed to wake her up fully.

“No.”

“Yes!”

“ _No_. You haven’t had another ‘normal’ idea, have you? I thought I said _no more_ after the last time?”

“Oh, I know you didn‘t mean that,” he said, coming over to put his arm around her, and try to manoeuvre her to the doors. Unsurprisingly, she dug in her heels… an act which may have helped anywhere else, but did absolutely no good on the glass TARDIS floors.

“I _did_ ,” she hissed, but he gave her an unrepentant smile.

“Come along, River,” the Doctor said. “I promise. You’ll love this.”


	6. In Which One Learns About the Weight of Bowling Balls

They bickered continually, all while the Doctor chivvied River into changing her clothes, convincing her to forgo any type of fancy shoes and assuring her when she complained that she’d love it, and didn’t she trust him…? 

“Trust,” she griped, appearing back in the console room in jeans and t-shirt, hair tumbling around her face, “has nothing to do with this. And, if you want to go down that road, Doctor… You promised I’d love it last time, too.”

“Did I?” he hedged. “I don’t remember using those exact words…”

A tiny lie. He _had_ ; but he really hoped she wouldn’t remember that.

“Anyway, you thought you’d love skiing…”

“Like,” River said flatly, fussing with her pockets and not looking up at him. “Enjoy, perhaps. Not love. And, you did promise I’d love the snowstorm.

“By the way, Doctor,” her voice was ominously calm; and he stiffened in alarm, “I looked up a few things.”

“Err… What sort of things?”

“Things you conveniently didn’t mention, when you picked our previous location? _You_ took us skiing in 1988.”

“I told you, it was a great snowstorm!”

“I think the Earth has had other great storms; and maybe even ones that didn’t come with their own yetis!” She turned to face him finally, a frown on her face and foot tapping angrily.

“Doctor, if we’d gone to a later time, we _could_ have used the newer fashioned boots and skis. Just imagine! Boots that are even a little more comfortable! Skis that are shorter, and shaped and lighter! But no… instead, _you_ navigated us to 1988. To a place without any of those modern concessions.”

The Doctor sniffed. “Those new skis almost run by themselves. But the old ones, you needed real skill to be good at them. I like those!”

“You would.”

“Oh, you’re just complaining because I actually found something you‘re bad at!” He might have been correct, but the look on her face was suddenly murderous; and the Doctor gulped convulsively as he tried to find some way to back-pedal.

“No,” River managed to say through gritted teeth, “I am not saying that just because I’m bad at skiing. Or… not only because of that,” she amended.

“I’m saying it because I still hold true to the fact that we are not normal, and that I think you’ve got some sort of ulterior motive for why you are trying to force us into such a crazy scheme!”

“I told you; I thought a normal date would be something special!”

“And I think,” River said, eyes snapping furiously, “that I’ve been patient, so far. Indulged your plan and… trusted you! But, perhaps the time has come for you to be honest with me about why you‘ve had this mad scheme? Because--”

Not for the world -in fact, not for any of the worlds he’d ever visited; and that was quite a number- would he have told her exactly why he’d wanted this. But he could sense that their bickering might just continue indefinitely, so he chose the only reasonable course of action. Flung open the TARDIS doors dramatically, and took just a tiny hint of pleasure when River stopped, mid-sentence.

“Is that…?” she whispered.

He glanced at her, nervously. It had seemed like such a good idea, he’d hoped she would love this surprise.

“But that’s--” Her mouth was open with shock as she turned, taking in every angle.

The Doctor brushed some imaginary lint from his jacket, beaming a very self-satisfied smile. It was alright. She liked it.

“It’s Leadworth! The bowling alley!”

It was nearly empty, with only one or two lanes occupied, but he still took the precaution of brandishing the psychic paper at the attendant.

“I’m the Doctor,” he said blithely. “Reservation under…ah, the Doctor. And this is my…well, my… Doctor Song.”

She glanced at him. “Date, Doctor. You had this plan for us to be normal and go out on normal dates; so get used to the word.”

“The Doctor?” The attendant was giving them a strange look. “Oh, yes. I see your reservation, right here.” He had a funny accent, strangely sibilant and roiling.

The Doctor grinned, placing a hand beneath River’s elbow as he steered her from shoe rental over to their lane. She regaled him with breathless stories at each point they passed… Silly pranks she and Amy had played on all the boys following them around. Things Rory had done trying to gain Amy’s attention when they were teenagers, that usually ended in disaster. The corner where she -as Mels- had bought, drunk, and thrown up her first beers.

“How could you have known… Oh.” River looked closely at him. “You had help.”

“No,” the Doctor said, inspecting his shoes carefully to avoid her eyes.

“You must have done. How else could you have known how much I loved this place?”

“Oh,” he said casually, waving a hand around. “I merely intuited the places in Leadworth of interest to its youth population, and took into account its proximity to the Pond’s residence, and made a few hypotheses of…”

River was fixing him with a raised eyebrow, tapping her foot.

“Oh, alright. I had help. Satisfied, Doctor Song?”

“Remind me to thank Mother,” was all she said.

* * * * *

“Ladies first,” he told her, gesturing grandly to the lane. She was already standing up, bowling ball lightly dangling from her fingers.

He wasn’t too surprised when she bowled a strike. It made perfect sense. Not only had she grown up playing this, but her unerring sense of aim with a gun made him aware that she must be excellent at throwing a bowling ball to hit a few pins standing back to back.

She sauntered back to her seat, and gave him a jaunty smile. “One strike for me,” she murmured, making a bold X onto the score sheet.

“My turn?” He grabbed a ball, mottled green. It was smooth and almost alive feeling beneath his fingers. And much, much heavier than he’d thought it would be upon first inspection. He staggered to the foul line, took careful aim and threw…

River was already by his side as they silently watched the ball fly out in an arc, down the lane.

“Amazing,” she murmured, her eyes following it as it bounced twice, then one last time into the gutter, completely bypassing any pins. “Even Rory usually hit one.

“Well, it’s still your go. Maybe try a heavier ball?”

It was an idea, and a good one. One he might even have thought of for himself, even though he couldn’t really see how bowling balls could get even heavier. But clearly, it was not the best idea; though at the very least, two pins teetered precariously before crashing down.

“Two!” The Doctor shouted, doing a little dance and punching the air in triumph. “Mark it down.”

“Two points for you,” River said. “And let’s see what I get…

“Another strike for me,” she said. She grabbed the pen, scribbling another X by her name for the second frame, and then a 2 next to the Doctor.

_This_ , the Doctor thought happily, _was more like it_. River, her smiles coming easier and more freely was obviously having a wonderful time; and truthfully, so was he. Enough so that he didn’t even care that he was losing. At least, for a while. They had played nearly an entire game before he began to have a sneaking suspicion that he’d been tricked, somehow. River’s smirk every time he stood up made him wonder if this was an elaborate payback for skiing that she and Amy had cooked up together, with just a bit of help from Rory.

“There’s something wrong with these,” he said, pouting just enough to be noticeable. In seven frames, he’d thrown bouncing balls, gutter balls, and one spectacular serve reminiscent of a baseball speeding to home plate. (He refused to even think about the one when his fingers got stuck; and in shaking it off, he’d managed to send the ball flying into the next lane. While he liked the sound of River’s laughter, he’d been just a little hurt when she’d collapsed into a fit of giggles that lasted for five minutes.)

“It’s all about stance,“ River said, calmly pushing his feet into the right position, correcting his grip on the ball. “Stance and aim, sweetie. And use a little flick of your wrist when you release the ball…

“And please,“ she cautioned, “remember to actually release it? I’d hate to see you go flying down the lane, still attached.”

He grimaced as she backed hastily out of harm’s way, narrowed his eyes, tried to remember her instructions and _threw_ … creating a marvellously impossible split. The 10th and 7th pins were still standing, far away from each other, and he surveyed them glumly, without the slightest idea of how to knock them down.

“There is definitely something wrong with these,” he muttered, turning to glare at her. “I followed your instructions; and look what they did! There’s no way to fix that, unless I make it bounce on purpose…” He paused, pouting at the twisted look on River’s face, as she clearly tried not to laugh aloud -again- at his discomfort.

“There’s something wrong with the ball,” he said again. “”With the material, or the weight, or… something!”

“I doubt this is the fault of the ball, sweetie.”

“It is,” he insisted. “They don’t like me!”

“I’ve never had a problem,” she answered, neatly rolling another strike.

While her back was turned, he surreptitiously pulled out his screwdriver.

“Are you trying to cheat?” she asked, turning around to watch him scanning the bowling ball.

“No,” he said, quite indignantly. “But it must be the balance. They’re weighted too much to the side and that’s why they keep rolling into the gutter.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice speaking volumes. “I’m sure that’s it.”

“There! Fixed it!” Satisfied, he stuck the screwdriver back into his pocket, lifting the ball. Something about it felt very different now. Almost…heavier. He staggered slightly before taking four deliberate steps, and careful aim, paying attention to stance. Left foot front, arm up in a backswing, ready to throw. River watched him, smiling despite herself at the image he created. Her Doctor, in lime green and white bowling shoes, burgundy braces and bowtie, long arms and even longer legs a study of barely repressed movement. Almost adorably graceful in his inherent clumsiness.

The ball flew from his fingers, and hit the lane with a satisfying thud before it began to roll. And then suddenly - exploded!

“Oh!” the Doctor exclaimed, reeling back. “Was that supposed to happen?”

“What did you do?” River asked, jumping up.

“I bowled?”

“Bowling does not make the ball explode! What did you do with the sonic? And what- what in all the universe is that?!”

There was a thing lying in the wreckage of the broken ball. An impossibly ugly, mewling thing, with shiny grey wings and a serpentine body slowly uncoiling. River looked around, not noticing until now just how quiet the bowling alley was… and no wonder. They were the only ones left there except the attendant, and she couldn’t even see him.

The thing let out a piteous mew, capturing back their attention; and the Doctor hit his head.

“Yes…” he muttered, peering at it. “No? Yes! I know them. That. Him, technically.”

“Doctor,” she said warningly, fighting the urge to back away, “kindly speak English and finish your sentences.”

“It’s a Dravonitus!”

“A Dravonitus?” River repeated abstractly. “But they’re extinct.”

“No. Well, yes. Ancient beings from the dawn of time, evolved later into the modern idea of dragons. But they’re harmless.”

The Dravonitus began to toddle toward them, unsteady on squat blue mottled legs, exactly the shade its shell had been. It stopped abruptly, hiccupped, and belched a small burst of smoke.

“Except for the fire, of course,” River said, rather dryly.

“Yes,” the Doctor agreed. “And they’ve got voracious appetites. Eat mostly marrow from protein based life forms.”

“Like humans?” River asked, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes.

He wasn’t listening. “Of course, Dravonitus eggs, shells are brittle and they need to be rolled in oil daily to keep from drying out before they hatch.”

“The lanes are oiled,” River murmured under her breath.

“Difficult though, their parents don’t produce oil. Part of why they evolved.”

Her eyes were scanning for any sort of escape route, as she half listened. “And the holes? Is that where the umbilical cord attached?”

“Sort of like an umbilical cord. But not. Well, it’s a _psychic_ umbilical cord. It’s how they attach to their parents, keeps their parents attuned to them while still in the shell. After they hatch, there’s usually a brief time when their parents work to locate them. The babies cry for them, and the parents will come to get them, providing, err…breakfast. That first meal of marrow.”

River stared at him, her mind frantically racing with thoughts of ‘that thing might devour us’ and ‘how in the world do we neutralize the threat and escape’… but oh, her Doctor, pouting and clumsy when faced with a merely heaving a bowling ball down a lane was smilingly calm and unconcerned when faced with one tiny member of an extinct species that might eat them.

Honestly, sometimes she wondered about his priorities.

“Hmm. I wonder.” The Doctor aimed the screwdriver at the rest of the bowling balls, thoughtfully. “They should break on impact, now.” He darted over, before River had a moment to grab his arm.

“Bombs away!” he cried, as he started dropping bowling balls right and left. Over the shattering explosions, River screamed at him.

“Are you insane! What are you doing?”

He shrugged, guiltily. “Seeing what will happen?”

“And people say I’m the impetuous one,” she muttered, surveying the damage. Some of the balls were simply that: bowling balls. But around the Doctor, out of dozens of shattered eggshells were small bodies unfolding. Limbs and wings of green and purple and red, small bodies and windmilling heads, all cheeping anxiously.

“Do you have a plan?” River asked.

“I always have a plan,” the Doctor scoffed.

“And in this case it is?”

“Ah.” He looked at her, eyes wide and little hopeful. “It’s in progress.”

“Wonderful.”


	7. In Which the Care and Feeding of Pets is Important

In the silence of the bowling alley, the Doctor and River stood side by side, surveying the damage. It was a veritable army of Dravonitus’ facing them now; knee-high, chirping creatures stumbling over their own wings and smoking from tiny slitted nostrils.

“How’s that plan coming?” River asked, her voice a little tense.

“Still in progress,” the Doctor said, rather cheerily. _A little too cheery_ , she thought, _especially considering the circumstances_. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her gun.

“Why,” the Doctor asked, giving it a dirty look, “did you bring that?”

“The last time you took me on a normal date, you told me not to bring it; and I actually listened. And then, we ended up facing a yeti. This time,” River said wryly, “I chose to be prepared.” She levelled the gun in front of them, and the Doctor pushed her hand out of the way.

“You can’t shoot them,” he scolded. “Look at them, River. They’re only babies!”

She snorted. “Babies who could devour the entire human race for breakfast.” He scowled at her, and she raised an eyebrow.

“But alright, Doctor. If I shouldn’t shoot voracious babies… then I’m listening. Waiting for your plan; because I presume you have one…?”

He turned away from her needling smirk, brain rapidly running through options. To be quite honest, It wasn’t that he didn’t have a plan. It was just that he didn’t have a _good_ one. In the Doctor’s experience, if he let his mind wander, acted on hunches and instinct and his own font of knowledge; plans… happened. The problem with River Song was that she liked knowing what was supposed to happen, and what she should do to either aid, or hinder said things to happen. He approved in concept; it was very methodical of her.

All the same, when he was trying to just let ideas percolate until they coalesced into something fully fledged, it was very difficult with her silent disapproval beside him.

“Would you mind not thinking so hard?” he asked, a little peevishly.

“I’m just waiting for you,” she responded. Her fingers tightened around the barrel of her gun, and his lip curled.

“There are other ways than guns.”

“Then think of one!”

“Alright!” he burst out, more than a little annoyed. Talking things out, aloud, usually helped him anyway.

“Species Dravonitus. Hailing from the dawn of time. Evolved into dragons.”

“You’ve said all that before.”

“Hush!”

She glanced at him, finger still caressing the gun trigger; but eventually subsided.

“Hmm. Dawn of time, dawn of time. They can’t time travel; never had that capability. So why are they here?”

“Because I brought them, Doctor.”

Slowly, River and the Doctor turned around. The bowling alley attendant was standing just behind them, grinning in a very nasty sort of way.

“You?” the Doctor asked incredulously. “You _brought_ them? Why? And how?”

“I’ve been taking care of them for a long time now,“ the attendant replied, with a careless shrug. “Given them what they need. The daily rolls in oil, the warmth and security as they were in the shell… They’re my… pets, I suppose you’d call them.”

“Well,” the Doctor said slowly, mind racing in about a dozen different directions. “Pets, you say? I suppose they're cute little creatures…” Behind him, he heard a noisy hiccup, saw a flash of flame out the corner of his eye, smelled scorched wood.

“And what child never dreamed of owing a dragon?” The attendant giggled, gesturing toward the army of Dravonitus’ still lurching around the bowling alley, fluttering translucent wings and letting out nervous little cheeps.

“You know,” River put in rather dryly, “many people have cats for pets. At least with them, you’re not in danger of being accidentally toasted and eaten as a snack.”

“Don’t antagonize him,” the Doctor mumbled out the side of his mouth.

“Why not? He’s crazy; the man keeps dragons as pets.”

“I’ll have you know, _I’ve_ always wanted…” He broke off at the look on her face. “Oh, right, not the time to tell you about pets I’ve wished for. Err… yes, he’s crazy. Exactly the reason not to antagonize him; never know what he might do. And there’s something he’s still not saying…

“Alright, then.” The Doctor shoved his fringe from his forehead, squinting at the attendant. “So they’re pets. But _why_? And why bring them here?”

“Because these little creatures are far better than even their later descendants. They were so innocent, back before evolution made them into dragons, taught them to fear the people craving their treasure, to roast those that hunted them…

“But at the Dravonitus! The very picture of innocence, harmlessness… They’re even moldable. Did you know,” he said conversationally, “legend has it that they were fiercely loyal to family bonds. That psychic link to their parents they had in the shell persists when they hatch, and is made permanent during their first feeding. Their parents’ desires and hopes and goals become their own. It’s why all dragons crave treasure; because one ancestor had a fondness for shiny things.

“Except this time, it won’t be their parents who feed them and shape their brains. It’ll be me. I will be the one to feed them, and their loyalty will be mine…”

The was the faintest air of fanaticism in his voice and River rolled her eyes. _Keep him talking_ , she thought as she edged a little closer to the Doctor, eyes scanning for an escape route and hoping that the man beside her was coming up with a plan inside that head of his.

“So they're loyal to you,” she announced in a bored voice. “And then? Did you just wake up one day thinking: ’you know what I want? Loyal pets that breathe fire and have no protein deficiency.’ “

“River,” the Doctor hissed. “What did I tell you?”

“I’m not antagonizing him,” she hissed back. “I’m asking a question. People with dastardly plans always love to talk.”

“You’d know.”

“So would you!”

“Oi, I have brilliant plans, not dastardly ones.”

“Then have one right now!” Her eyes flickered between the attendant, the door -too far to run to- behind him, anything she could possibly use for a weapon that wasn’t just the gun in her hands. “You usually think quicker on your feet than this. Or,” she gave her gun a little wave, “we could just follow mine.”

He grimaced, and she rolled her eyes again. “I’m trying to keep him talking, sweetie, so you can figure out how to neutralise this. I can probably manage another ninety seconds for you to save the day using your brain, before I take matters into my own hands and blast us free.”

He made a face at her, but couldn’t say anything. In a way, he was very impressed with her that she hadn’t already.

“Doctor Song brought up a good point,“ the Doctor said. “Loyalty… that’s very nice. But what would make you decide you needed so many? I could understand one… but,“ he glanced backwards, eyes quickly scanning over small bodies and many, many legs and wings, “why would you need forty of them?”

The attendant gave a simpering little snicker, shaking his head. The Doctor narrowed his eyes, really looking at him. There was something about how his mouth moved, something that didn‘t seem quite right… as though his features were only a mask on something far less human.

“I‘ve heard stories of you, Doctor. And I must say, I thought you were brighter than you‘re showing me here. Why would I need so many? What better way would there be to rid the Earth of the human race? Take a race of creatures -young, pliable, innocent- and raise them to hate… and from there, to kill?”

Beside him, he felt River stiffen in anger and sympathy.

“You ripped them out of time,” she asked, her voice low and trembling, “to force them to become weapons? Against their will… you‘re planning to brainwash something newborn and innocent to kill people?”

The Doctor tried to catch her hand, but she pulled it away. Oh, he understood her anger at that concept. Even so, there was a disloyal thought in his brain that he vaguely wished she would have let him hold her hand; but he knew her well enough to know that in this case, she needed to be angry by herself before she would even let herself accept his presence and comfort.

“Ah, so _you’re_ the clever one, Doctor Song.” The attendant sniggered, his face distorting to look even more unpleasant. “And here I thought he was that one I’d have to work around.”

“You should never be fooled by a pretty face,“ River drawled. “I’m very clever, too, you know. Some might even say I’m a bit dangerous.

“The thing to remember is that _he_ ,” River tilted her chin toward the Doctor, “still basically believes in the goodness of people. Even if he’s angry, he’ll always try to save the innocent.

“Too bad for you,” she said flatly, “I just wasn’t made that way.”

She whirled around, firing bullet after bullet in the direction of the Dravonitus; and the attendant gave a high pitched squeak, running to protect them.

Except… the Doctor grinned when he realised her shots completely missed the babies. The bullets whistled scant inches above their heads; but if there was one thing he knew about River Song, it was that she was too good a shot to ever miss by accident.

“How’s that plan coming,” she whispered through the corner of her mouth. “Anything yet?”

“Portal.”

“Portal?” She grinned, very suddenly. “Oh… _portal_.”

“You approve?”

She stopped to reload her gun and turned to face him fully; eyes large and luminous, shining in the dim light of the alley.

“It’s brilliant,” she breathed. “You’re brilliant.”

“As are you. Nice work with the gun.”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “You know me; always good with them. _Some people_ mutter when they think I’m not listening that it’s practically an extension of my hand.

“You know what they say, though. Give a psychopath a gun…”

He grinned, shaking his head, wondering if that was just a teasing comment, or if she really believed that herself. Not the gun part (he was one of those people who wondered if she wasn’t a little too quick off the mark with wanting it by her side; which he must have said one day in her hearing…), but the psychopath bit. Because back in Berlin, a very young River Song had teasingly -but steadfastly- maintained she was a psychopath; which of course he’d known wasn’t really true. Searching for her in databases long before he knew her parentage, had told him the dry facts of her academic achievements and archaeological discoveries, lists of the students she had mentored and the digs she’d led.

Of course, he had come across the more sordid mentions of her through history; impossible not to, really. He’d found article after article, warning everyone of a curly haired menace armed with a gun, hallucinogenic lipstick and -dear lord- the cleavage…

But he’d always known, remembering her at the Library; that’s not all she was. Despite the avowal of her psychopath tendencies, the warnings of her violent nature (not to mention his own nagging suspicions for why he shouldn’t trust her and who she’d killed to land her in Stormcage; the best man she‘d ever known indeed)… for every negative comment, there was a corresponding story of the good she’d done. River Song had been praised as a goddess on Yete and Xanthe, declared the unofficial saviour of the entire Beata race….

And in moments like this she proved _him_ right. That her ability for love and compassion was as strong… well, as his.

“You’re not a psychopath,” he protested mildly; and without missing a beat, River threw her arm backwards and fired, her shot missing the attendant’s left ear by millimetres.

“Alright, so maybe you are. But you‘re my psychopath,” he amended. “Better?”

She grinned, reaching out one hand toward him, and he threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed briefly before she turned to aim the gun directly at the attendant’s head.

“You seem,” River said conversationally, “to be rather occupied with protecting your pets. It’s a pity you don’t have the same regard for your own life.” She fired another three shots, bullets whistling past the top of his head, his right hand and left knee.

“So tell me your plan one more time.” She took one deliberate step forward, then two, three… and the attendant squeaked at the sight of an angry River Song, curls in a wild halo around her face and furious eyes, advancing upon him with a gun in her hand. Bravado gone, he began backing up.

“You’re planning to force harmless creatures into doing your will, killing off the entire human race…?”

“Our seers have said that the humans will enslave my people,” the attendant babbled. His cheeks stretched like rubber, lips falling away lopsided from his face to give a brief glimpse of something grey and slimy underneath. “One day they might reach the stars, and they’ll find my race and force us to serve them. Tear my planet apart. I’m trying to save them, save us… I went back in time to find a way to save us!”

“By killing.”

“You’re planning to kill me! What makes you better than I am?”

River gave a tiny chuckle and a flirtatious smirk. “When did I say anything about me killing you?”

The Doctor grinned as he watched her, knowing exactly what she was doing. Herding the attendant, letting him back up nervously in hopes of getting to an escape route. In other words… the portal. Which, happen to be located in the shoe rental.

He darted to the milling Dravonitus babies, pulling out the sonic.

“I’m so sorry for this,” he apologized to the little creatures. “But you’ve got to call your parents. They need to come get you.” He pointed the screwdriver at them, wincing as they began to shriek together in a shrill, high pitched creel.

From behind the shoe rental came a small crack, a tear in time. He could see the gaping edges of the world beginning to open…heard an answering cry from within before two creatures catapulted through the air and into the bowling alley.

“Beautiful,” the Doctor murmured, looked up at them. The female was a rich red, deep and glowing almost burgundy from her head to the tip of her tail, wings shimmering and translucent. The male was a dark charcoal grey, and even stronger and more powerful than his mate. They circled, wings nearly clipping the walls.

“Hello!” the Doctor called up at them. “The babies are safe!”

One deep blue eye looked down at him, and he could hear the female’s voice in his mind.

_:They were stolen from us. They were stolen from us.:_

“But not by me!” the Doctor called. “By him!” He gestured toward the cowering attendant, who was still trying to back away from River and her gun.

“He’s the one to blame,” River called out. “He’s the one who stole them, had a plan for what he was going to do to them.”

“And it was nothing good,” the Doctor added.

River rolled her eyes, not lowering the gun. “I think they guessed that, sweetie.”

“Yes, sorry. I’m the Doctor, by the way. And I’m going to send all of you home.”

He managed, with short bursts from his screwdriver to herd the babies toward the portal, and their parents followed, swooping through the air around them.

“Take them and go,” he called. “And good luck to all of you.”

One by one, the babies toddled toward the time portal, and disappeared. The last to go was the male, who paused upon the threshold, surveying River, the Doctor and the attendant.

_:This one:_ he said, one glowing eye upon the attendant, _:is responsible for stealing from us?:_

“Yes,” the Doctor said, nodding.

_:He doesn’t smell pure. But he has enough marrow to feed the children.:_ There was a brief pause, and then the attendant was snapped up within powerful jaws and dragged -screaming- into the portal before it snapped closed.

The bowling alley was quiet. River slowly lowered her gun, turning to face the Doctor.

“They’re gone,” he said, a bit unnecessarily.

“Yes,” she answered. “Good plan.”

“Well…” He scratched his chin, straightened his bowtie, carefully put his jacket back on and tugged on the lapels. He didn’t like admitting this sort of thing, but he had a feeling she’d guessed anyway.

“I didn’t really have one. Not at the start, or for… well, awhile.”

She didn’t say anything. Holstered her gun, brushed shards of eggshells off her jeans, carefully didn’t meet his eyes until she walked over and very lightly kissed his cheek.

“I’m glad I didn’t just shoot them,” she admitted softly. “Or the attendant.”

He draped his arm around her shoulders, turning them to walk back toward the TARDIS.

“A bullet would’ve been too easy. I like the plan we came up with, though. Saving the Dravonitus, sending them back to the past where they belonged.”

“And,“ River added thoughtfully, “even the attendant got a reward for stealing Dravonitus eggs.”

“River,“ the Doctor said with a slight frown, “I’m not sure becoming breakfast counts as a reward.”


	8. In Which Childhood Activities Are Discussed

She might consider him a spoilsport (and she might be right for doing so) but the Doctor had no interest at all in finishing that bowling game.

“There’s no point,” he whinged. “You were winning!”

“Only by a little,” she answered quickly. He gave her a suspicious look. Her back was to him, her face hidden, but there was a certain something in the rigid set of her back, a steadfast refusal to turn around… the suspicious shaking of her shoulders.

“You’re laughing at me!” he cried.

A second passed, and she stood perfectly still before turning around. Her face was red from suppressed mirth and her lips pressed tightly together.

“You are!” the Doctor insisted, pouting for all he was worth.

“Never,” she told him, eyes gleaming merrily.

He humphed and grumbled to himself as he sat on the glass floor of the console, twisting wires together, reconnecting plugs… jumping just occasionally when he was hit with a few sparks.

“You grew up bowling,” he muttered petulantly. “We didn’t have bowling alleys on Gallifrey.”

“I’ve never thought to ask,” River said thoughtfully, “what sorts of things you did, growing up? Did you play sports?”

“Gallifrey,” the Doctor said, trying for a lofty condescension and failing miserably, “was not known for its abilities in the sporting arena.”

“Evidently not.” Her lips twitched. “Not even a track team? I’d have thought you would be a shoo-in for that.”

He scowled, positive she was making fun of him again.

“We did all the regular things kids do,” he responded, waving a hand airily at her. “My friend had a flight simulator that we played when I visited him. Supposed to get you ready to fly a TARDIS; but my family didn‘t agree. Said I‘d learn best by doing, and that once I flew one by myself I‘d understand the mechanisms.”

River bit her lip, firmly squashing down her urge to tell him: _They were wrong_.

“I see,” she murmured instead. “How fascinating. Flight simulators.” She sat down opposite him, running her fingers idly over the exposed wires. Honestly, sometimes she had a feeling he didn’t even have anything real to fix. Her Doctor always had such tells when he got nervous or needed to think something through… a hand run through his fringe, endless fiddling with his bowtie. But on the safety of his ship it was always the same, every time. Out came the screwdriver to tinker with something on the TARDIS that usually didn’t need to be fixed in the first place.

“We did other things too,” the Doctor protested. “Lots of things, and better ones than bowling!”

“Then tell me.” River leaned over, a tiny smirk on her lips. “What else did the youth of Gallifrey do to pass the time?”

He should have expected she‘d ask.

“Well… oh, we played a lot of board games at the Academy. Do you know ‘Cyberman Attack‘?” She shook her head, and he continued, suddenly excited to share something with her that she didn’t know about. “Everyone chooses an icon, and then there‘s this miniature Cyberman that you have to trap and evade while making sure it doesn‘t convert you.

“Actually, we should play that sometime,” the Doctor said. “I‘m sure I still have the board. And it was one of our favourite things to do. We‘d have marathons sometimes that lasted for weeks!”

“We _could_ … but I think,” River said, trying to be tactful, “that if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not play with a Cyberman. Miniature or not.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “I suppose if you think about it that way, it sounds a lot less fun than it did when I was young. But it was really an exciting game…”

“Still no, thanks.”

“It was a good game,” he muttered. “Mostly. Trained you in all sorts of tactics, evasion and escape methods…”

“Somehow,” River answered, “I doubt either of us need work at evasion or escapes.”

An impossible statement to refute, so he didn’t even try.

“There was another one that I can’t remember the name of it, a card game that ranked the inhabitants of the universes by order of threat. But,” he shrugged, “that one you tended to play by yourself.”

River’s face was twisted, her lips almost quirked into a smile as she surveyed him from beneath lowered eyelashes.

“So what you‘re telling me is that by 21st century Earth parlance… you played video games, Solitaire, and board games?”

“Well…” The Doctor fluttered a hand around, knocking a bolt to the floor. River sighed, leaning over to pick it up.

“That’s not all we did! We…” he paused, searching for another activity, “played with Roentgen blocks; but of course that was when we were still in the nursery.”

There was an unreadable look on River’s face, before she pushed her hair firmly back behind her ears.

“You played with… radiation.” she said. Her tone of voice made it clear that it wasn’t even a question, merely a statement of fact. “That does explain quite a lot…”

“Oi, what do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, sweetie.” River bit her lip to hide a smile. “Nothing at all.”

He had a funny feeling that she was either laughing or pitying him somehow, and either was unthinkable.

“No need to be rude, Doctor Song! You,“ he stated with immense dignity, “had fun throwing a heavy ball at a bunch of pins every weekend!”

“And I was good at it,“ she retorted. “You’re just a bit upset because you weren’t.”

“I needed more practice, River! Plus,“ he waved an arm around, “I wasn’t really throwing a bowling ball a lot of the time. I was throwing eggs!“

“Egging; yet another thing Mels did as a child that I’m sure you didn’t.”

He didn’t have time to wonder about what exactly she meant (how exactly _was_ egg a verb?) because then she was laughing, a soft girly sounding giggle that made him stop and look at her in amazement. River Song, giggling… Well. Yes, it was giggling at him. But it was such a rare sight and sound that he found himself smiling in response, shrugging nonchalantly as River clutched her stomach, trying to get herself back under control.

“Alright,” she said, sobering. “I won’t laugh anymore. At least,” she winked, “I’ll try not to. I think I just expected something quite different of Time Lord youth. Something far less… normal. Considering how you are.”

He frowned at her. “All the Time Lords weren’t like me, River.”

“And thank goodness for that. I suppose that I assumed with the way how you are… how trouble always seems to find you… I expected something else.

“Alright, Doctor.” She tucked her hair behind her ears one more, peering at him intently. “Tell me more? We’ve established that you played with radiation in the nursery, and then at the Academy you had a whole host of strangely themed, yet oddly human games that occupied your time. What else did you do for fun?”

He thought for another moment, waving the sonic around aimlessly as his mind raced. Gallifrey was so long ago… so very long ago and far away, shrouded in so many unhappy memories that he tried not to remember even the good things. But she‘d never asked before… and despite knowing that she knew his language, could fly his ship; he‘d never even thought of sharing his past with her. He didn’t share it with anyone, really. A titbit here or there; a few words to describe the landscape and people, an even briefer explanations of the reason he’d left and what he’d done.

But this. Talking about his youth, as though it was just an unfamiliar country and not a destroyed planet… Only with River Song would he have wanted to do that.

“Have you heard of the Maze?“ he asked, looking up at her a little shyly. She shook her head. “Well, at the Academy there was… Well, it wasn’t quite a maze as much as an obstacle course that you had to practice going through once a year. We’d compete to get the best time, and it taught you about portals and temporal shifts. You had to remember the correct turnings to get out. Tested your knowledge of other planetary life as well. I got the highest score for all of Prydon.”

He shivered again, fingers stilling on the pieces of oscilloscope spread before him. “Some of those things were really nasty, though. Almost got eaten by a Hystrix. Do you know them? Looks like a porcupine except-”

“Carnivorous,” River finished for him. “I know. Met up with them myself during a University trip. Was it a normal one, or the rarer poisonous variety?”

His eyes widened, mouth open in surprise. “I didn’t know there were poisonous ones,” he breathed, eyes gleaming. “Really?”

“Only for you,” River said, shaking her head, “would that be something to look forward to.”

She laughed, softly. “That maze sounds more like what I expecting from you. A bit Harry Potter though.”

“Good old JK.” The Doctor grinned, raking a hand through his hair. “Always wondered how she got all that insider information.”

“Magic isn’t real though.”

“No, of course not. And she made up that Mirror of Erised. Can you imagine, River? Seeing what you most want, just by staring into a reflection? Hah!”

River laughed along with him, seeing the humour in the situation. “And if you were to look into it,” she teased, “what would you see? If it existed.”

He sobered rather abruptly, reaching over to cover her hand with his own, stroking his thumb down her knuckles. “If it did…” He paused, smiling slightly. “Right here, right now.”

She looked down, biting her lip and feeling oddly sober herself. Her fingers twitched beneath his before she flipped her hand over, letting their fingers intertwine.

He was the Doctor, and she was River Song; and for them, nothing was ever like other people. Normal couples met in the pub, by bumping into each other in the supermarket, or as the friend-of-a-friend at a party… _They_ met scattered through time and space, disordered and complicated. Their very interactions were a Gordion’s knot of possibilities… and even how they expressed themselves defied convention.

For herself… oh, she knew how she felt about him. Not so very long ago -in a timeline that didn’t exist, on top a pyramid in Area 52- she’d refused to let the Silence and Madame Kovarian get their way. She‘d forced time to grind to a halt, put out desperate pleas to the whole of the universe on his behest… and when all that had failed, she had willingly allowed the world to think him dead, gone to prison to protect him and his secrets.

Yes, she knew what she felt for him, all right. _Love_. No matter that she rarely said the word aloud; it didn’t make her feelings any less real. And she might have regretted not saying it, not using that little four letter word more often; except that he never said it either. It had only been once, in her memory. Berlin; the Doctor dying on the ground, fingers clutched on her jacket lapels and pulling her close to give a faint whisper into her ear.

“Really?“ she whispered, feeling a faint heat creeping up her cheeks. Ridiculous, really. River Song was not one to whom blushes came easily… but hearing him murmur those four little words, his voice smooth and low and intimate… It made her insides quiver and warm, and a tiny smile came over her face, because she _knew_. This was his way -their way- of saying exactly what he felt. “Right here, right now; really?”

“What else could be better than this, River?” His voice was impossibly gentle and she looked up at him, her eyes gliding over those ridiculous features that were still so inexplicably dear; those ancient eyes intent on her that held all the dark and light bits that made up who he was.

“Well,” she said slowly, feeling the strength and comfort of his fingers beneath her own, the warmth of his gaze upon her. “I suppose that if I were to look… Right here, right now. For me, too.”

He grinned like a child, pulling her hand until she was closer to him and he could squeeze her tight.

“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” he murmured into her hair.

“Pair of what, exactly?”

_Idiots_. She felt him mouth the word inaudibly against her ear; and she laughed softly, feeling his heartbeats beneath hers, tweed scratching her cheek, and a strange sense of rightness as she snuggled into the circle of his arms.


	9. In Which a Tentative Definition is Extended

Tomorrow, he’d declared. Tomorrow would be another day, with -frighteningly- a new plan for a normal date… but it wasn’t tomorrow yet; and River rather unexpectedly found herself revelling in the tonight. Tonight was all about banana daiquiris and chocolate-strawberry martinis… sitting, legs dangling out the open TARDIS doors with the Doctor’s arms draped around her shoulders, his voice soft as he occasionally whispered silly anecdotes into her ear about the universe below to make her laugh.

“I like this,” she admitted, stealing a sip of his daiquiri.

“Can’t go wrong with bananas,” he answered, a pleased smile on his face. “Best gift for a party, plus you can make wonderful drinks with them…”

She rolled her eyes discreetly. “I didn’t mean the drink, Doctor. I meant…” she made a small gesture between them and the universe below; a tiny half-circle of her hand encompassing it all.

“In a hundred and forty-two nights in prison, we’ve never really done this. Nowhere to go, just being together, in the TARDIS…

“It’s nice,” she finished self-consciously, as he smiled at her.

“You count the days in Stormcage?” he asked softly.

“I count the nights, sweetie.” There was enough innuendo in her tone to make him blush slightly and choke on a mouthful of daiquiri.

“I’m there with you, then? Every night… blimey. And it’s been a hundred and forty-two already?”

She nodded. “You did promise, Doctor. Every night, as long as I was there.”

“What have we done, then? What mischief have you dragged me into, you bad girl?”

“I,” River said primly, “do not drag you into anything. It’s always you, Doctor. A mad scheme, and off we go, into danger every time and on every planet-”

“Best not to tell me more,” he said hastily. “Foreknowledge… tricky thing.

“Though…” he paused, thoughtfully swirling his drink. “I always thought somehow it’d be you. With all the danger and everything you get up to… I’d come to think that mortal peril follows you and I‘m just around to share in your escapades.”

River eyed him resentfully. With everything she knew about him, the tales of woe from Madame Kovarian she’d absorbed throughout her childhood, and the more factual data she’d learned in University… he really thought _she_ could be the worse troublemaker of the two of them?

“Still,” he continued, not noticing her glare. “Don’t tell me.” He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss against her temple.

“As ever with us, Doctor Song, I’m looking forward to the surprises…”

Bad mood receding, she laid her head against his shoulder, threading her fingers through his.

“I suppose some things are better lived,” River teased. “I’ll give you a spoiler, though. Expect lots of mad adventures and an excessive amount of running; but then there always is. Would you expect anything different of us?”

There was a long pause.

“No,” he admitted softly. “I suppose not.”

It might have been her imagination, but there was something in his last sentence that made her look at him, really look at his slight frown, hazel eyes suddenly turned darker and introspective; and her hearts began to beat faster, thud-thud-thud-thudding with a hint of trepidation.

“Can you tell me something, Doctor?” she asked curiously. “No lies?”

“I don’t lie,” he protested.

“You do.” He twitched, obviously about to lie; which would only prove her point, and he knew it.

“Alright, maybe I do… but only if it’s necessary.”

“Well, its not right now. I want you to tell me something… I’m asking, rather, for you to tell me why? Why are you trying so hard for us to be normal, when you know we‘re not?”

No, she wasn‘t mistaking the look in his eyes. Carefully blank and just a little sad. “I just thought it’d be a nice change,” he replied with a shrug. “Something special for both of us.”

“I warned you,” she retorted, “about trying to hide behind Rule One.

“Doctor, I’ve gone along with your great idea so far because I -” she paused, silently willing the words out of her mouth, the words they never actually said.

“Because I trust you.“ Not the words she’d meant to use, but true nonetheless. And for her, in the life she’d led, trust was a far more elusive and far more precious commodity than mere affection.

“I trust you,“ she repeated, her voice a little stronger this time. “Even if your plans seem crazy, you‘ve always got one; and after-” she hated remembering that beach, never wanted to talk about it if she could help it “-going in Stormcage, I finally trust that together we can make things alright and then afterwards, eventually you‘re going to tell me what you were thinking of.

“But this… you’ve been very insistent, sweetie, about us doing something normal and not giving me a real reason for why. So I think that it should go both ways. Can‘t you just tell me the truth, if something concerns the two of us?”

There was a funny expression on his face; one she couldn’t remember ever seeing before. Twisted and repentant, the faintest trace of hope and wonder buried within his eyes before he looked deliberately away from her.

“It seems,“ the Doctor mumbled in a low voice, “that I’m always owing you something, River. But if you want it, alright. Here’s the truth. We never just sit and do something. It‘s always adventure and running and trouble and monsters; and I had this idea because I wanted to give you--” He broke off, shaking his head.

“I mean, we should have something we could… “ He paused, searching for the right word. “Share. Together. We have all the activities of time and space at our disposal, and we could do anything, River.”

“Anything, just so long as it’s something normal?“

“Normal is what we make of it!” He smiled, outwardly bright and exuberant; but River narrowed her eyes, brain working furiously as she thought over what he was and wasn‘t telling her. There was still something that didn’t make sense… some little path his mind was on that she couldn’t quite follow.

Plus, it still sounded somehow like a lie.

“That seems like a part of the truth, Doctor. Not all of it. And it’s a nice idea... except that _we’re_ not normal. You’re a thousand year old alien-“

“Nine hundred and thirty-two,“ he interrupted, looking a little wounded by her inflation of his age.

“Alright, a nine hundred and thirty-two year old alien, who wears a bowtie and has abysmal taste in hats. And for me; I’m not even fully human.”

He was beginning to pout, mutinously. Lower lip stuck all the way out, forehead a mass of creases.

“And besides who we are,” she continued, striving to seem calm, “we are incapable of _doing_ normal. We’re time travellers who exist opposite to each other. Time and space is our backyard, not flower gardens and picket fences! We’re… adventure and running for our lives. Defeating world-altering threats and solving our way out of tricky situations. That’s what we _are_ , Doctor. That’s what we do.”

“But not all we’re capable of! It sounds,“ the Doctor protested, “like you want to give up on the whole idea, just because of a few monsters?

“You,“ he said, tapping her on the nose, “are River Song. Monsters can never deter you.“

“No,” she agreed, “they don‘t. But it is just a bit worrying that you’re inadvertently going to get us eaten by something on this crazy quest of yours for us to become something we can‘t be. Because, lets tally them up…

“One,” River held up a finger, “an alien yeti. Two: tiny dragons.”

“They were pre-dragons!”

“They eat protein-based life forms! They would have eaten the two of us for breakfast, and then gone on to the rest of the world! And for the record, we should really be counting our bowling adventure as monsters two _and_ three. That attendant was notably not human.

“Alright,“ he protested. “We have had a few monsters. But they weren’t my fault! They could’ve come up anywhere.”

“They could have,” River conceded. “Maybe they would have, even if we hadn’t been there. But doesn’t it tell you something that at every turn, disaster still seemed to find us? Plus,” she added, “I hated skiing, and you hated bowling…” Her voice faded as she noticed the very depth of his frown beside her.

“Would it hurt you to try a little harder?” he asked with a plaintive whinge in his voice. “Come on, River, just a little more? I wanted to make this work. I thought it really, really could… and it was a brilliant idea. Us, having a normal date. How could that not be amazing?”

She sighed inwardly, more than half convinced already by the tiny smile on his lips and the hopeful pleading in his eyes. It would be so easy to give in to him on this. Promise him one more time to get it right, one more go for them play at being normal…

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that was still something wrong with him and his entire request that he was refusing to share…

“No,” River said abruptly, throwing the word out like a challenge. She was finished with playing, with trying to coax him into telling her what was wrong. She thought, with all there was between them, death and life and death and life and prison, even… the need for unnecessary subterfuge should be gone.

Sometimes, it seemed there was so much to hide from each other. Those awful words, foreknowledge and spoilers, lived alongside with them, like extra members of their relationship.

But this… this couldn’t be a spoiler. And if it wasn’t, River felt, then they _should_ be capable of being honest.

He bit his lip, hope fading from his eyes as they searched her face. “No?”

“No. Your whole plan was ridiculous from the start. And,” she warned, holding one finger to his lips, “I _did_ try. I tried skiing, and you tried bowling; and this is not working. It will never work because that sort of normal is not who we are; and I don’t see why this was ever so important to you!”

She could see him shut down, face stiff and eyes downcast. “It is - it is important!” he sputtered helplessly.

“Then tell me why!”

“Because - because it is!” His words flew out in an abrupt rage and his eyes, when he lifted them to hers, were blazing furiously. “It‘s important, River, because how else can I show you? Tell me, if you’ve a better idea? I know who you are to me -I think I know, anyway- and I know that we’re going to be _amazing_ ; but it’s important because if I care about you as much as I know I will, I should be able to give you what you want!”

Her face was filled with shock at his outburst; and at the sight, something within his hearts spasmed with pain. He hadn’t meant to yell. He never did, especially not at her –not again– but somehow he kept doing it when he was distracted, or feeling trapped and didn’t know how else to react. And then, he would shout. He never apologized for doing it either; and somehow, no matter how old she was, she never expected him to. It was proof, he supposed, that she knew him. Knew that he never really meant it.

But he always felt guilty afterwards when he had a moment to think about it. Words, once thrown out into the world where people can hear and react to them, can never be taken back. Not even if you are a nine hundred year old Time Lord. He walked away from her and the open TARDIS doors, dropping gracelessly onto the steps and keeping his gaze on his hands twisted in his lap. He heard her scramble after him, and he peeked at her as she sat beside him. Curls tumbling over her shoulders, a tiny crease of confusion between her eyebrows and a worried expression.

“I don’t think you understand,” he mumbled, voice a little quieter. “I don’t know if you can.”

“Maybe I can‘t. Or maybe, you should trust me enough to at least try to explain.” She tentatively stroked her knuckles across his cheek, stubble catching against the soft skin of her fingers as she bent her head closer to catch his hesitant words, whispered softly out.

“River, I give everyone adventure and seeing the world-”

“And danger,” she murmured.

“Yes,” he scowled at her interruption, “and danger, too. It’s what they want. Deep down they know, all of them. Travel with me, and that’s what they get. A complete departure from their ordinary lives. But _you_ , River. You were born into all that, brought up with it; and it’s nothing new. Madness and adventure and monsters.

“So,” he gulped, “I wanted to give you more than what I give to everyone else. I know who we’ll be together, River; and I can‘t wait. But do you blame me for thinking that maybe the right way to…“ he gulped again, his voice a little plaintive, “court you is to give you the normal life you‘ve never had? I wanted you to have what you want.”

Speech concluded, he didn’t even dare to look at her; until she sighed, finally glimpsing the faint light of understanding her husband’s thought process.

“You’ve been trying to court me.”

He nodded. 

“All this… was your attempt to court me? Like we’re teenagers, and you’re trying to impress me into going out with you again? A fancy blue mode of transport, and make-out spots across fifteen galaxies didn‘t seem like enough?“

He scowled. “You make it sound ridiculous, River.”

“It is ridiculous. And you’ve done it already. Given me a hundred and forty-two nights of adventure-”

“And danger and running and monsters,“ he finished. “That’s not the memories I want you to have of us. I want you to have… everything. You deserve everything, and I don’t know if just taking you to see the stars is good enough. You do that on your own anyway.”

“I can,“ she admitted. “And I do, I suppose.” She shook her head, starting to smile despite herself at his pouty expression.

“You,“ River declared, “are ridiculous. Did you ever stop to consider that maybe when we have adventures together, our regular running-in-time-and-space adventures… I have what I want, already.”

“How could you?” he asked, a touch bitterly. She reached up, traced over his jaw with the tip of one finger, and he angrily pulled his head away.

“Maybe I have what I want,” she repeated, her eyes fixed on his face. “What I most desire? Remember?”

She looked down at her hands, a tiny smile on her face. “I told you: right here, right now. Just… us. Together.

“Doctor, that human-type normal you’ve been seeking for us isn’t what we are. And I’m alright with that… but are you? Because personally, I think our version of it is pretty nice because it means I do get it all. Adventure and running and danger… even romance.” She could feel her cheeks flushing a rosy pink at the memory of a silk bowtie looped around her hand, his lips on hers with time and space exploding back into place around them.

“It might not have been the normal way to go about it, but you can’t get more romantic than that pyramid. And then you told me at Calderon Beta that you remembered, and I assured you that I did too… and you said that if we both remembered, it was real after all.” She stretched her hand out toward him and took her fingers in hers, soft and warm.

“What more could I possibly want than what we have?”

His eyes, dark and sober, searched her face intently and she could see his mind working. Struggling with what she’d said, wanting and not wanting to believe her at the same time… and then he smiled, a slightly goofy and bemused smile that told her everything. That he understood what she was saying; that he _might_ even believe her. Because if she‘d been an ordinary human, what they had wouldn‘t be enough. She‘d crave -even just a little- the domestic normalcy he’d been trying to offer her, or else she’d want routine and stability to define themselves and their relationship.

(And maybe she did want that sometimes, just a little. Maybe, one day this would get tiring, and she’d think of how it’d be if they were like everyone else. To have simple, attainable dreams. Dinner dates and passionate goodnight kisses, flowers and cards with bad poetry on her birthday…)

But she wasn’t an ordinary human, and neither was he. They were The Doctor and River Song… and being them meant that sometimes, the sheer abnormal nature of their relationship was what created their own version of normal.

And that, River thought as the Doctor pulled her into him, his lips on hers already starting to rob her of breath and conscious thought, was pretty special. Being them was something she wouldn’t have wanted to give up, not for all the normal dates in the world.

“I always knew I liked you,“ the Doctor whispered moments later as he pulled away from her slightly, resting his forehead against hers. “From when we first met. You might have been confusing and frustrating to deal with… but deep down, I always knew how much I liked you. Promise you won’t ever forget that, River, please.“

“A confusing and frustrating first meeting for you too? Sums us up, doesn’t it?“ He laughed softly, and she smiled, combing her fingers through his fringe.

“But I’ll remember, sweetie. And I don’t think I’d blame you even if you thought differently for awhile. I tried to kill you the first time we met for me.”

“But you didn’t succeed.” He grinned, pulling her even closer to him. “It was your choice, and you saved me in Berlin. With a kiss.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in; but by that time he was already kissing her again, and she leaned into him with her mind blissfully empty of anything but the feel and the smell and the taste of him assaulting all her senses. Except; one word resounded through her brain, beating in time with her hearts.

_Berlin?_

She was the one to pull back then, and the Doctor trailed his lips down her neck before murmuring huskily into her ear.

“What do pyramids have to do with anything, though? You said a pyramid…?”

Her soft moan became a surprised gasp midway through, but he didn’t notice. And River pulled completely away from him so she could look into his eyes. There was warmth and affection, threaded through with a rather healthy amount of lust… but there was something missing. The knowledge of _exactly_ who she was, that she’d always seen the last hundred nights whenever he arrived at Stormcage for her. She felt like groaning and laughing all at the same time as she stared at him, because she should have guessed. Should have listened to his words -all that future tense- and known immediately. And it was funny, but she’d even thought when he’d first picked her up how young he seemed this time… and it was true. He might have done Berlin, might have known _what_ she was; but he was even younger than she on this trip, and didn’t know _who_ …

“How do you feel about pyramids?” River asked tentatively.

“Love them,” the Doctor answered with a decisive nod. “Met Albert Einstein on one.”

“Any other memories?” River asked, still watching him carefully. “Any at all… of being on top a pyramid?”

He squinted, scratching his chin, running a hand through his hair. “No. Or rather, not yet? Is that… spoilers?”

He said the word hesitantly, as though it was as foreign for him to say as it customarily was to her. River clamped down on a chuckle, puzzle pieces settled into place at last. Her own fault: she’d asked him how he felt about pyramids; and he’d said he loved them. Not that he remembered what had happened, or that he’d been there…

“Something like that,” she admitted. “Spoilers.” The word tasted unfamiliar on her lips, because it had always been his, her older Doctor’s word rather than her own.

“You’ve always told me to be very careful about what I say,” she mused, “when we compare diaries; and now I think I know why. Never mind. You’ll understand eventually.

“What did you tell me, Doctor, when you had this idea?” River asked, idly letting her fingertips trace the weave of his tweed. “Normal is what we make of it?”

He nodded eagerly, and she curled her hands into his lapels to draw him closer.

“We’re time travellers who exist backwards, and we’ll never be like everyone else. Sometimes,“ she added ruefully, “we’re not even on the same page.

“But,” and she leaned forward, pressing her lips softly to his cheek, “I think that being us, being together and doing what we do…

“Don’t you think that has it’s own awards?“

He didn’t say anything; just kissed her again. And maybe that was answer enough.


	10. Epilogue: In Which the Joint Jumps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This epilogue was a long, long time in coming, and I’m so sorry, but I was trying to figure out if I wanted to end this story where I’d meant to, or let it continue. (Obviously I chose the former; but I’m not discounting future oneshots of other dates the Doctor will take River on.)
> 
> Thank you again to everyone reading. (And, to Angus and Sarah. Love you guys.)
> 
> _Songs referenced: Ain’t Misbehavin’; The Joint is Jumpin’; T’ain’t What You Do (It’s the way that you do it)_

In retrospect, it was rather obvious how much the TARDIS had always liked River; and he was a fool not to have realised it sooner. His old girl wouldn’t let just anyone find her or jump into her at their whim… and besides that, in all the time they’d been travelling together he’d never known her to react to anyone else like this. 

River was singing to herself as she took a bubble bath, and the TARDIS was projecting the sound through her speakers. No; not just projecting. The Doctor grinned, running a gentle hand over the console as he listened to River’s soft croon and his ship‘s thrumming, beeping counterpoint. 

“I know for certain the one you love, I’m through with flirtin’, it’s just you I’m thinkin’ of…” There was a loud splash, a muffled curse and half a minute of noisy bubbles before River started singing again, the TARDIS continuing as though there hadn’t been any interruption at all. 

“Don’t go nowhere, why should I care? Your kisses are worth waiting for, believe me…”

The Doctor sighed, collapsing onto the chair and listening to the sounds of water splashing, of the pleasing combination of voice and electronic humming providing a soothing backdrop to his own thoughts. 

After Berlin, he’d never been sure how much of River was incredible intelligence and intuition, and how much was simply a Time Lord’s telepathic connection. But he knew she’d understood what he’d been trying to do. A clumsy attempt, perhaps; but he’d been trying to make up for what he’d cost her. A normal home and childhood. Being raised as first a weapon, and then a contemporary of her parents. Her ability to regenerate. 

But no, it didn’t stop there, did it? She couldn’t know that it never stopped, the things he stole from her. Because he knew that one day even her life would be forfeit, her death just another drop of blood on his hands. And what could he give her in return? Fun? Adventure?

No, it wasn’t enough. She might be part Time Lord, but she was part human as well; and he should at least be able to court her like another human would have. He should be able to give her _something_ normal…

But normal was what they made of it. She’d been so certain, their version could be amazing. Adventure and running and danger _and_ romance; not to mention a spoiler about a pyramid he was getting a rather shivery, excited feeling about. 

“Ain’t misbehavin’,” he heard River singing over vigorous splashing; and he sang the last line along with her. 

“I’m savin’ my love for you…”

He was on his feet a moment later, running to bang against the bathroom door until River opened it, towel wrapped and curls tantalizingly speckled with bubbles. 

“I’ve just had an idea,” he burst out, leaning against the wall and grinning at her. She rolled her eyes at him, a fond smile creeping over her face. 

“I thought that you’d given up on your grand ideas,” she responded. “Considering how the last one turned out.” 

He scoffed, waving her words away. “But this is a good one,” he insisted. 

“I think that I’ve heard that before.” 

“And anyway, sometimes you have to kiss a lot of toads until you get a prince.” 

“That’s _frogs_ ,” River said, not even trying to suppress her groan. “You have to kiss frogs to get a prince. Not toads. I think if you kiss a toad, you probably get a disease.” 

The Doctor squinted at her, running a hand through his hair. “Are there diseases that transfer from amphibian to human?” 

“Yes. No! Why are we having this conversation, Doctor? I thought we’d decided; your plan was not a good idea-”

“Yes, yes,” he shrugged off her comments, holding up his hand as he grinned at her. “Except that I had another idea for something. Just answer me a question, River; and it‘s very important.” He paused, dramatically; and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Do you know Fats Waller?” 

She hesitated, caught completely by surprise. “Well,” she answered slowly, “yes, of course I know Fats. Jazz pianist in the 1920s, singer, composer…

“That’s not what you meant though, is it?” River was eying him suspiciously. “He died in the ‘40s; so no, of course I don’t know him in person. How could I?” 

“Time machine,” the Doctor said smugly, patting the wall beside him; and the corners of River’s mouth began to quirk upwards. 

“What would you say if I were to tell you that I happen to know of a party he was invited to? Well,” he amended, “I say invited, but he was actually the honoured guest. Well… I say _guest_ , but I actually mean, he was kidnapped at gunpoint and brought to play for Al Capone.” 

She bit her lip, eyes dancing. “And you tell me this because…”

“Because,” he stuck his chest out with a slightly self-conscious swagger, “well, I know Al.” 

“Of course you do.” 

“I do, he’s always happy to see me. He’ll love it if I bring a guest to his party. I’ll even,” he winked, “let you bring a gun.” 

“You’re afraid that if you didn’t, I’d just steal one from Capone’s men.” 

He shrugged. “They’d be no match for you, Doctor Song.” 

She paused, searching his face for a hidden motive, a secret agenda. “No monsters?” 

“Not unless he invited some of his own.” 

She was still eyeing him suspiciously, and the Doctor huffed out his breath in irritation. “Normal is what we make of it,” he told her. “And I’m offering you a night out on the town, River Song. A party, dancing-

“1920’s Chicago gangsters?” 

“That too. Romance, adventure… and maybe just the slightest possibility of danger, River. What more could you want?” 

“Only you,” River answered with a cheeky smile and raised eyebrow. “I’m even willing to make a concession of my own. 

“You can wear a hat.” 

They strolled through the doors of the Hawthorne Inn half an hour later, and the Doctor thought they cut quite a couple. Him in a white tuxedo and top hat, and River in sheer honey-coloured chiffon, sparkling where the light hit the beaded gold embroidery. Her curls were pinned up, leaving her neck and shoulders distractingly bare, and he could just see the tiny bump beneath her skirt where she’d strapped her gun into a thigh holster. 

“I think they’re playing this for you,” he whispered into her ear. “Fats must have heard you were coming in.” 

“The joint is jumpin’, really jumpin‘. Check your weapons at the door, I mean the joint is jumpin’!” 

He was almost happy when a man rushed up to them; if only because he knew it spared him the glare she was about to level at him. 

“Doctor! So glad you could be here.” Dark hair slicked back from a receding hairline, heavy brows and a three slashes on the side of a round face…

“Snorky!” The Doctor grinned, vigorously shaking Al Capone’s hand. True, if he had to name a list of the thousand most trusted people in the world -in the universe even- Capone definitely wouldn’t have been on it. But there was something almost likeable about him, regardless. He was a charming, amiable Robin Hood-sort with a strong personality and an eel-like way of sliding past the law. 

“Didn’t know if I’d be able to make it,” the Doctor said, “but happy I was able to; you always throw a great party. And now I’d like to introduce you to--”

“No introductions necessary.” Capone’s eyes trailed appreciatively over River; and the Doctor tightened his grip on her arm. “Doctor Song, I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” 

“And you.” River nodded politely, her eyes alight with mischief. “Such a pleasure for me also.” 

“I hope you don’t mind if I steal her from you for a dance,” Capone said, an innocent smile lighting up his face. “It’s so rare that Doctor Song and I get to renew our acquaintance; and I have some things I wanted to talk to her about.” 

He was forced to let go when River glided over to Al, holding out her hand graciously. “You don’t mind, do you sweetie? I’ll be back after a dance or two.” 

No, of course he didn’t mind, exactly; though he‘d be lying if he didn‘t say he was a little worried what exactly River had to talk to Capone about. (He had a feeling it was nothing good; and that he’d regret knowing details.) But he stood back, dropping a few dollars into the brimming tip jar on the piano and watched Fats play, mesmerized by his fingers dancing over the keys, body swaying to and fro on the bench; until he felt an arm slide around his waist and he turned his head to rest his cheek against River’s curls. 

“Al Capone?” he asked mildly. “An acquaintance of yours; really, River?” 

“You’re the one who calls him Snorky,” she answered, a slight smile playing over her lips. “And I said I didn’t know Fats. I never said a word about Al. 

“He likes the nickname,” the Doctor said defensively. “He calls himself that.” 

“Well,” River smiled, tossing her head back, “he’s just Al to me. And our acquaintance is all business. When I’m in town, he considers me the best of all his men.” 

“I bet you are, you bad girl.” She laughed softly, moving even closer to lean against him and tipped her head to watch Fats. 

“He’s amazing,” she murmured, watching his hands jolting over the keys in a bouncing stride accompaniment to his singing. “I can’t believe we’re seeing him in person.” 

“Did you know,” the Doctor asked, “that he can hit a tenth?” He stretched his own fingers out, splaying thumb and pinky as far as they’d go. “Most people can only hit an octave.” 

“Fascinating. You are, as always, a font of information.” 

He grimaced at the teasing note in her voice, and she grinned unrepentantly at him. 

“Is that personal knowledge? Do you play?” 

“A bit. Learned from Beethoven,” the Doctor told her, puffing out his chest. “He said I sounded quite good.” 

River gave him a sidelong glance, the corners of her mouth tilting up coyly. 

“Was that before, or after the hearing loss?” 

“Oi!” He grabbed her hand, leading her onto the dance floor. “No call for being rude!” 

“Just asking,” River said. She paused, running her fingertips idly over the sharp bones of his wrist, trailing down the back of his hand. 

“I learn something new about you every day,” she murmured, sliding her fingers through his. “And I bet you’re good at it.” 

“Well... yes.” The Doctor shrugged defensively when River stared at him. “No good being modest if it’s true!” 

She began to laugh, cheeks rosy and eyes bright as they danced; and he whirled her away from him and back again just to watch the beads on her skirt catch the light with each movement. She looked like she was made of starlight, sparkling and glittering the faster she spun; and he grinned, caught in the moment, and loving every second of it. 

“This makes three,” River remarked breathlessly. “Three new things I’ve learned tonight.” 

He beamed. “Three things about me?” 

She raised an eyebrow. “There’s that modesty again. I’ve learned that Beethoven admired your-“ she gave a delicate cough, “musical ability; and I’ve learned that apparently, you are able to marshal your limbs into coordination. You’re actually not a bad dancer.” 

“Not bad!” he scoffed, twirling her with a little extra vigour. “I’ll have you know, River, that Ginger thought I was quite good! 

“In fact,” he shrugged, “I _may_ have given her a few pointers before hooking her up with Fred.” 

“Of course you did,” River said, eyes dancing. “And I believe that.” 

“I don’t lie, River Song.”

“Oh sweetie, even _that’s_ a lie.” 

He screwed his face up into a protesting frown; and she chuckled, stretching up to lay a trail of feather-light kisses along his jaw. 

“It’s alright; I’ll pretend to believe you about Ginger. The third thing I learned was...” She flushed slightly, dropping her eyes from his. 

“This is really what you had in mind all along, wasn’t it? Us, like this. That not everything has to be...” She faltered, splaying her fingers on his shoulder. 

“Big?” he prompted. 

“Exactly.” 

He shrugged, not knowing quite what to say. No; that wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind. He’d never stop trying to make up for the uncertain nature of her past and future; and he’d never forget that nothing lasts forever, that each day with her was marching slowly but inexorably toward the Library. 

But some things were very difficult to put into words. Especially if you were as timey-wimey and confusing and frustrating as they were. 

“Well, I like this,” she confided. “I like everything I told you earlier; but I suppose your plan wasn’t so ridiculous after all. Being together, a party, dancing with my – with you...” 

“I suppose sometimes normal isn’t so bad.” River finished. “Even for us. I _might_ even be amenable to another date in the future.” 

“Really?” he asked, hoping she hadn’t noticed how his voice squeaked in surprise. “You’re willing to give my idea another go?” 

She gave a wordless sigh of agreement, nestling her head on his shoulder for a moment; and the Doctor grinned. 

“You’ll see,” he vowed. “The next time will be better. No monsters. Nothing with the world ending, or-“

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” River murmured. “I don’t really care what we face, or what world we have to save. But if you tell me that every now and then, we’ll have a night like together like this; then I’m... happy.” 

“Promise,” he whispered, tipping her face up to his, pressing his lips softly down on hers. “We’ll do something amazing, River.” 

“We always do.” She twined her arms around his neck; and he pulled her close, impossibly close, with a foolish smile on his face, his hearts light with laughter. 

“Remember,” Fats crooned from the piano, “if you’re tryin’ too hard, it don’t mean a thing, take it easy…”

_Good advice_ , the Doctor thought. He twirled River around the dance floor and dipped her; before pulling her in once more to feel her heartbeats echoing against his, eight beats lilting in tempo with the song as they hummed along. 

“T’ain’t what you do, it’s the way that you do it, that‘s what gets results…“

Normal for them was not normal for everyone else. She’d said she liked what they had, that their version was pretty special; and he had to admit, he was rather pleased with it too. All of it, and all the promise of what could come. 

And as he spun her around, again and again, occasionally daring to steal a kiss and laughing when she smiled, for just a second he forgot that he’d been trying to give her anything other what they had.


End file.
